The Undeserved Hardships of Draco Malfoy
by Bullied
Summary: It was all an accident, helping that annoying Potter! But now the wizard extraordinaire, Draco Malfoy, is in a bind. He’ll need all of his intelligence, his wits, his looks and his sneers just to make it through Hogwarts! Slash DM!HP
1. I did what?

**Title:** _The Undeserved Hardships of Draco Malfoy_

**By:** Bullied

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, nor do I treat them in a consistent way with the works of J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Draco/Harry, because it makes me giggle.

**Rating:** PG-13, T

**Warnings:** Alternate Universe right before 4th Year, this is my first fanfic so I'm probably gonna make mistakes!

**SLASH! The main romance in this story is between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.** Though this is a silly sort of story, and the romance is taken lightly, if this bothers you, this may not be the right story for you.

**The story begins...**

Our scene unfolds inMalfoy Manner in the lazy days ofsummer before Fourth year.We join our anti-hero, Draco Malfoy, during a normal night and the adventure begins...

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**Chapter 1. I did _What?_**

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I woke up and realized I was hungry. Rolling over in my bed I felt a tightening in my upper stomach followed by a rumble. "Bother." I muttered into the dark room, my eyes wandering lazily over the dim vaulted heights of my bedroom. I knew the increased hunger was supposed to be due to my being a growing teenage boy, but really, I'd been measuring religiously all summer and I hadn't gained an inch. This was a distressing sign, as _Pot_- er _others _at school were probably growing like weeds. As I slid my legs to rest on the floor, my toes probing over the soft carpet to find my fuzzy purple slippers, I wondered if I should adopt a new hairstyle, maybe something with a little poof to it to give me more height. No, then I'd be just like the bald geezers who used charms to get their hair back. Everyone knew!

My silk pajamas made the usual soft sound I associated with nighttime and restless nights and I creaked open my door to peak down the hallway. No lights and no noise. Hopefully _Father Dearest_ was still out licking 'You know Who's' toes or finding a new sparkly hair bow to tie back his overlong white hair, one never knew with him.

I gave a little skip at his absence and shuffled in down the hall. No, I corrected myself silently. I, Draco Malfoy, never shuffled. Instead, I was sauntering commandingly in my fuzzy slippers down the hall! That thought gave me a little boost and I added a swagger to my step, happy to be me and not as nerdy as _Pot – _er _others._

As I neared our grand stairs, there was a small noise from below and I stooped to peek through the railing.

"Great, just bloody perfect."

Father _was_ home and he was wearing his stupid little mask and robe, like anyone wouldn't see the tip of his long white hair sticking out. There was a hint of pink there as well against the fold of his hood and I snorted quietly. He HAD been shopping for a new hair accessory. Stupid wanker. My father's probably the main reason I keep my hair so short and style it in such a manly and commanding fashion.

I took a few stealthy steps downward, keeping my body angled low as I slipped down the stairs buffed to a shine even in the dark. Due to years of practice at this very task, I made it to the bottom easily to hide next to the huge carved block that marked the end of our stairs. It was covered with oblong squiggles which were supposed to represent souls yearning for freedom or some such rubbish. Mother was currently in a modern art mood. I eyed the wide expanse of the foyer before me, wishing there wasn't so much light here. Father must have turned on a light back in the hall. I began plotting my covert path to the kitchen before I noticed father wasn't alone.

I'm pretty sure my eyes widened and my mouth formed some sort of 'o' because I had never expected this! Harry Potter was in my house, yes he was! Harry 'pain in my side' Potter! What was he doing here? Had he come to apologize to father for all of the trouble he'd caused me? Well, if that were the case, I would tell him to sod off, though maybe I _could_ make him my slave for a bit to make up for all of his prancing around school like some sort of Dumbledore clone. My mouth curved in a smile as I stared through the round railings at my nemesis but faltered momentarily when I realized Potter wasn't looking very well.

In fact…Potter was looking…bad. And when I say 'bad', I mean bad _even_ _for Potter_. I swear does the boy even own a mirror? Whenever we're allowed out of robes, it's just SO embarrassing for him, I honestly feel pity for such a fashion victim.

But, this Potter had gritty gunk of some sort all over his face and his robe was ripped and torn. "_Ew_!" I murmured under my breath while my eyes dwelled on one muscular looking arm covered in something black and crusty. Some of the messy stuff on his face was actually red. What _had_ he been doing? His eyes were flying around the room as if trying to escape from his face and one of the lenses of his glasses was cracked, which was rather amusing for me.

There were muffled sounds as Potter unsteadily backed up, his feet just beginning to touch the edge of our huge and very ugly antique entry rug. Why mother thinks a mixture of 13th century and hippie century is a good idea is beyond me.

Blast! Potter had backed up enough now that he was in a position to see me hiding here against the railing. He would think I was afraid of him, this would not do! Then he'd tell father and I'd have to deal with that whole mess. I was running through the possible consequences in my head when Potter suddenly made a gurgling noise and rose up on his toes. _What, is he in ballet now? _He was balancing really well too, almost as if his toes weren't even touching the floor. _Yet another perfect achievement for the perfect prat! _Red stuff was beginning to dribble from his nose in strings. _Ew again! _If he dripped all over like that during a ballet concert the audience would definitely leave.

With a clatter, something rolled across the gleaming floor to rest in front of me. My broom! My beautiful, beautiful broom which I had left in the main hall after practicing all day! My eyes were dragged from the now twitching Potter to my broom looking all sad and lonely there on the floor, and I paused. Wait, was Harry's choking all a ruse to get my broom? I wouldn't put it past a Gryffindor! They pretend to be all noble, but really their too chicken to do what it takes to get it done unless no one is watching. Then they're all deceitful and spiteful, I just know it! Something obscured my field of vision and I snarled quietly at that black shape which was now floating past. It was a hunched figure, and looked almost unreal as if its body was not quite there. For some reason, I shivered slightly and felt one hand grip the railway next to me reflexively. I instinctively disliked the figure that was floating before Potter. Who or what was that thing?

The shade moved slowly across the hall, and with a loud crunch my broom was abruptly snapped in half.

With a slow mind I processed the fact that the hunched figure in black had destroyed my broom. Sure he looked like he was a floating black ghost, but that didn't stop him from stomping all over my precious broom with his ugly, bony feet! He swished over the now shattered pieces that had represented my hopes and dreams and paused in front of Potter. I felt a pounding in my head and a thumping in my chest as my hand fell from the rail and I slowly stood.

Potter and his stupid hunched friend in the tattered black robes were standing and talking now. Ignoring me entirely, the gits! Apparently, forgetting all about the beautiful broom they had left in their wake as well! I think I took a step forward in the slightly lit hall. I remember I was suddenly standing behind the figure who had dared to touch what was mine, and for some reason, I was gripping the handle of my once whole broom. It ended not in the swish of a tail, but was now a broken and jagged thing. It appeared deformed in the hallway light.

My eyes teared slightly. How was I supposed to beat Potter at Quidditch and get him to beg me for mercy NOW?

Potter made another gurgling noise, which sound rather like laughter to my ears and without thinking I brought the broken handle down with all my might onto the black figures head. He who dared to break my precious broom and then ignore me would be punished! The hit reverberated through the large hall. I vaguely heard gasps and some shouting coming from what seemed a far distance.

"Serves you right for breaking my broom." I said while brandishing the handle in my hand. The figure swayed and toppled and Potter fell onto his knees gasping in huge breaths of air in a most undignified and thoroughly unattractive manner with his lush lips.

No, not lush, I meant to think ludicrous. I was so upset about my broom I was mixing up words in my head!

Potter suddenly shot up from the ground, his face set in determination and brought his wand forward, shouting something in his rough and ill mannered voice. To me, it sounded like an incoherent babble, but then no more than he usually sounds when asked questions during potions. Honestly, he is no kind of wizard at all!

The black cloaked figure on the ground twitched and then let out a sound like air coming out of a balloon. Really, couldn't he hold it in? Must he have to pass wind in my delicate presence? I looked down as the figure deflated steadily and watched as one almost claw like hand uncurled and lay on the ground. There was something gooey coming from the now still figure on the floor and I stepped back lest it damage the fuzzy tufts on my favorite pair of slippers. It's so hard to find comfortable house shoes with nice rubber soles!

There were a few more shouts and Potter continued gasping on the floor like some great beached whale. I frowned at his uncouth behavior.

The shouts increased and permeated my consciousness and I realized that we were not alone. With a quick scan, it was revealed that there were more members of my father's _super secret evil lover's party_ present.

I hate it when he invites the Death Eater's over for parties! They always try to pinch my cheeks.

Then I noticed that they were not pawing over my families possessions and looking for dark corners to lurk in as usual, but were lying on the ground in huddled groups. People in official looking robes were standing over them. Serves them right. Anyone who is so fugly that they need a mask to go gadding about really shouldn't be in the wizarding world at all. With a start, I realized some of those subduing _You Know Who's_ followers were some Hogwarts professors, including Professor Snape. He was arranged in a most dashing fashion over my kneeling father with his robe billowing commandingly around him.

As the shouting around me increased, people were beginning to run about in a chaotic and annoying fashion. This obscured my view of my favorite professor, but not before I noticed that there was smoke and what appeared to be a _hole_ in the outer wall of our east wing sitting room! When had THAT happened? I'm alert and watchful for treachery at all times, there is no way I could have missed that! It would be like letting someone sneak up on me which would never hap-

"Mal…D-Draco, You…" The whisper came near my left ear. I jerked my head around to an uncomfortably close view of Harry Potter's dirty face.

"Gah!" I squeaked into the face that was inches from mine. How did he get there?

I shuddered at the thought that I may have squeaked, and quickly schooled my mind to the fact that I had manfully shouted 'Gah' as a warning to Potter, not out of fear. My eyes swept over my nemesis and were drawn to the gross red stuff still flowing from his nose. I would have offered him a handkerchief but I didn't have any on my person.

Potter was looking at me in a very odd manner, which I discovered when I was able to drag my eyes away from the disturbing looking brown slime covering his right cheek. What was that anyway? And why was Potter looking at with such wide eyes? What was wrong with him? Suddenly he straightened and I realized with a shock that he had indeed grown over the summer. Oh, for the love of all that is unholy! My eyes were now at the same level as his lips! How much taller did that make him than me? I knew I should have done something to my hair to make me appear taller, but how was I to know we'd have visitors this late at night?

The dirty shoulder I was glaring at suddenly came much closer than I ever wanted it as Potter threw his arms around me and pulled me into a tight hold. I must admit, I froze. The fact that Potter was so mentally unbalanced that he would assault me in this way had never occurred to me. Physical violence with no warning or provocation? Now really! This is **not** the well bred wizard's way! His body was slightly larger than my own, though now that we were touching so closely, I realized he was not covered in fat as I had assumed from his oversized clothing. His arms and chest felt solid against my body, but not overly so. He felt lean and…hard and a little warm.

The warm hands holding me gently opened and closed on my back before he crushed me to him again. What kind of physical attack was this? Was I to be slowly suffocated to death in an ever tightening death hold?

"Draco. Thank you!" His voice was quite close to my ear again, which jolted me and I struggled, managing to wiggle my way away. He was still staring at me as if he hadn't seen anything like me before, which in my case, I can understand. I am a striking and gorgeous package of wizard strength and cunning, my steely gray eyes never missing any small detail as I coolly assess the world around me in a sexily detached manner. As I was thinking of my perceptive and alert and seductive ways, I realized he had been pulled back by his loser friends. When had they arrived? No matter, they were almost (but not quite) as big of wankers as he was anyway.

And looking at them, they were as dirty as he was! Ha ha ha! The bushy haired mugglette was grasping at Potters arm and giving small cries of "Oh Harry, oh Harry!" while the Weasel was patting Potter on the back with a funny look on his red, dog like face. Was Ronikins crying? I eyed the trio in distaste. What emotional, touchy-feely people they all were.

Though now that his friends were here (by the way, now that I think of it, why were they ALSO in my house, the nerve!), I hoped Potter would start paying attention to them and stop staring at me with his mouth hanging open like that. I was pretty sure I didn't like it.

I shifted and smoothed one hand down the front of my silk pajama shirt. Ack! My hand was now covered in gore. Looking down I realized the entire front of my attractive, and expensive, purple silk pajamas with the tiny embroidery that had been HAND stitched with little flowers was completely covered in the same gross stuff that covered Potter. I shuddered while looking down at myself. So that had been his plan all along, how low! He was trying to bring me down to his filth covered level! Granted Potter was used to rolling around in dirt, probably rutted in the mud before Quidditch practice to get himself to feel like a man or some nonsense, but I, Draco Malfoy, need not prove my masculinity by taking part in such behavior and I was definitely not used to being covered in unknown liquid like substances!

"Potter, look at this! This is unforgivable! This had better come out!" I gestured at my shirt and glared at him threateningly, trying to lower my eyebrows in the intimidating manner I'd been practicing all summer. Of course, that was before I realized that he'd grown taller than me (only SLIGHTLY, mind you), so I wasn't sure if it was having the same effect from his point of view as it had for me in the mirror. He didn't look frightened but continued to look at me like a stuck ox while his friends hugged at him like little mewling kittens. Both of them were crying now. Idiots.

"Bloody bother." I muttered at his lack of respect and pushed my way past them, carefully avoiding the goo on the floor, which was made easier by the fact that several adults were gathered around it talking in low voices. I was heading for the kitchen to get my wand to take care of the disgrace that was now the front of my shirt. I keep my wand in the cutlery pot with the cooking spoons at night; the kitchen is a central location, after all. A lot of wizards like to keep their wands under their pillows at night, but those are the wizards that hex themselves with boils while they sleep. A Malfoy is much too intelligent for that to happen!

I vaguely heard Dumbledore's voice wheezing behind me as I pushed my way into the kitchen and I felt my blood pressure rise. What did these people think; the Malfoy house was open for goody two shoe wizard parties without any notice?

Well, tough luck for them! I wasn't feeding them, the freeloaders!

Luckily, the usual cleaning charm worked and I surveyed my close fitting silk pajamas which hung smoothly from my lithe frame. I swear, my good looks were wasted on my current company! I turned with a satisfied nod, wondering what I should do about the situation in the foyer when I realized Potter was standing in the kitchen doorway with a serious looking Dumbledore standing behind him. The old fool had one hand on Potter's shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy, I realize that we are all still in a state of shock, but your presence is required along with Harry Potter by the Ministry of Magic." The old coot's voice was as rusty sounding as ever. Dumbledore then smiled. "And of course, I believe the reporters have already arrived, we couldn't expect to keep them away from something like this." His merry eyes twinkled and I suppressed a shudder out of respect to those who are near death. Of course, most who look as close to death as Dumbledore don't insist on poncing about and annoying the living!

I was lead out to stand next to the still filthy Potter to be assaulted by scores of Ministry people. They were firing questions at both Potter and I, which I ignored, as I was busy shouting at the people who had crept up the stairs to our second floor. The party wasn't expanding up there and there would be NO snogging in any of the bedrooms! Honestly, the nerve of some people blowing a hole in the house and bringing in some goo dripping, broom breaking freak. I bet it was Potter. I looked over at him and saw that he was still talking. With a start I realized he had said my name.

"I didn't even see him come behind Voldemort's back...I was sure I was going to die, you see. We had destroyed his other means of resuscitation but…I knew that I was going to be killed after he overpowered us all." He said this softly and stuttered slightly at the word 'killed' and then picked his head up. "But Draco must have been planning this from the moment we were dragged into his house hours ago. I'm still just so…amazed. He knocked Voldemort down at just the right moment from behind, which allowed me to utter the spell we had been training for. I still can't believe it..." Potter said, his voice trailing of and a blush coming over his face. I snorted, he always did this 'I'm too shy to talk in public' act, before I stopped and realized what he had just said. The guy who turned to goo was _You Know Who? _And, I had helped Potter? _What on earth had I just done?_

The rest of the night was a blur as Potter and I were shepherded from one group to another; I was even forced to endure the indignity of a chirpy reporter who insisted all pictures must be of two of us _together_. It was nauseating. I made sure to look extra threatening and to draw myself up to my full height, but Potter still loomed unnaturally tall beside me. Plus, even out of the corner of my eye I could tell he was standing with a goofy smile next me, blushing at the cameras. The stupid wanker.

When dawn started creeping through the jagged hole in mother's favorite sitting room, it was decided that the house was no longer livable for a minor. That minor being me.

Bah!

Apparently, I am now alone in the world. My dear father was dragged off with the other masked freaks (can't say I miss him) and mother was off on her usual 'life is stressful, I'll be off…somewhere…Draco darling…' bit. I suppose it didn't help that the inept Ministry folk led by the Weasel's funny looking father found **my** father's secret dark arts and muggle porn room. It wouldn't have been so embarrassing for me if the porn hadn't been all midget muggle porn…and worse…male on male midget muggle porn. He also had a 'computer' with lots of 'downloads' of something called 'slash' for something called 'The Lord of the Rings'.

In a weird twist, apparently, he was trolling something called chat rooms and was wanted by muggle police under the name 'LegolasseeksFrodo'. We learned this when the muggle police showed up searching for him on the threat of 'soliciting minors', whatever they meant by that. Ha ha ha! It WAS funny to watch the ministry deal with a bunch of inept muggles under the leadership of the Weasel's soft father! Bloody muggle worshiping freak! I'd have turned the lot of them into flowers or something, so that they could at least have been useful for something in their short, dreary, muggle lives.

Until this little misunderstanding could be cleared up, I was shipped off to the Leaky Cauldron. I was forced to spend the week before school hiding in my room from reporters and other nosy annoyances.

Don't get me wrong, I liked having people taking an interest in me. I am a magnificent specimen and it's nice that _finally_ some people are beginning to realize that. But, that's not what this was about. This whole fame thing that was surrounding me like a whirlwind was about me and POTTER as if we were some sort of team. _Some_ reporters even insinuated that I'd secretly been in cahoots with the wanker from year one, plotting for _You Know Who's _downfall from the beginning. As if I'd work with a messy haired, dirty person like that! Besides he'd rejected _my_ offer of friendship in year one, and a Malfoy, much like an elephant, never forgets. It didn't help matters that Potter was awkwardly singing my praises to any reporters who managed to catch him. I almost sent him a scroll _"Seriously Potter, if you can't wax about my virtues eloquently don't even bother. Love, Your Nemesis, Draco."_ But that would be communicating with him and that'd just feed into the current hysteria.

I was pretty sure the 'death that freed the world' and our involvement together was all a trap of some kind planned by Potter, but I couldn't quite figure it all out.

However, I **will** discover the reason for this confusing turn of events, for I am Draco Malfoy!

I've been planning to have Potter on his knees before me, begging, for many years now and a little thing like being linked with him as the saviors of the wizarding world won't stop me now!


	2. A baggage thief!

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****Chapter 2. A Baggage Thief! **

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I adjusted my bags restlessly as the Hogwarts Express stood humming before me like some overgrown bee. In years past, I'd always had a servant to help me with such a mundane thing as baggage. With the uproar at the house, and my current assets cut down to the bare minimum, such assistance now appeared to be a thing of the past.

I didn't even have enough money left for a new broom! Of course, I'd spent all funds on the truly essential things: stylish clothing, hair gel and enchanted note paper for the many evil, tricky hate letters I planned to send Potters way this year.

As an added bother, my two usual lackeys weren't in sight. I leaned once again into the cart in front of me with all my weight, straining to get the blasted thing to move across the station floor.

"Draco, can I help?" A warm voice said near my ear.

"Gah!"

I twisted my body around; my slick black dress shoes slipping slightly and saw Potter standing not two inches from me. How did he keep DOING that? I'm always alert to my surroundings! I surveyed my nemesis and frowned.

Same messy black hair, same ugly glasses, same beady green eyes, same tall body with his lean and almost…developed chest…How could Potter be the same age as me and have more muscles?

Had he been getting chest hairs yet, I wondered?

Hard to tell under the robe, all I could see was slightly tanned skin contrasting nicely against his white dress shirt…

I blinked as I realized what I was thinking.

First of all, his voice had been harsh, not warm, and his chest was ill-shaped, not nicely lean. Second, I'll be the first one to get chest hairs!

"Can I help, Draco? My bags are already on and I saw you out here." He said this with one hand scratching behind his head in a distracted manner.

His cheeks were starting to turn pinkish. The freak. Probably felt bad for not being eloquent enough to the press about me. I swear, _'Draco showed that he was a true friend that night'_, what drivel!

"I am unused to this kind of…labor." I said as condescendingly as I could.

I looked him up and down with narrowed eyes as if sizing him up and then sneered while turning my head to one side. I'd been practicing this move in the inn after the disastrous discovery that Potter was now taller than me. I hoped it looked as if I were sneering down despite the height advantage he had on me.

At my insulting glance, Potter didn't frown or stammer or look like a confused puppy dog like he usually did. He did the strangest thing; he looked ME up and down as well.

But not in the way I had. His eyes were slow and heavy…I could almost feel them traveling from my face to my chest and on down as if his eyes were hands of air brushing against my robe. A quick brush against my chest, then his eyes flickered down to brush against my…hey! Why is he looking down there? I must have made some sort of protesting noise because he abruptly snapped his eyes up, his cheeks taking on a stronger red hue.

He jerked back a bit as if I were something to be afraid of, which I must admit, I am. This caused his dark hair to flop up and down in what I thought was an amusing fashion before he grabbed two of the heaviest trunks from my trolley and ran off. My mouth opened and closed.

Was he robbing me? I narrowed my eyes as his robe disappeared through the doors of the express. He had taken my bags! Ha, all the good it would do him! I'd like to see him try to open a trunk of a Malfoy! Not only were all of my possessions warded, but I'd also password protected them. He'd never guess the password, it was just that devious.

With a frustrated sigh at my lost possessions, I gave my now lighter trolley a tentative push. Yes! It was creaking forward a bit more easily. Soon I would be finished with this drudgery and on the train stalking a certain dark haired thief!

I would be the crafty hunter, at one with my surroundings as I moved steathfully through the mysterious, mist covered environs of the train cars. I would be watchful for any danger be it a poo flinging monkey from the Gryffindor section or a hungry guinea pig lunging at my ankles from the frightening land of the Hufflepuffs. No! These dangers would not stop me for I would draw ever closer to my prey: a quivering, frightened boy trapped within my skillfully laid snare of neckties. Potter's shirt would be slightly open showing his heaving, tanned chest and his glasses would be long gone leaving his huge green eyes focused on me pleadingly. I would draw closer, my sexy thigh-high, hunter boots moving silently through the think grasses of the train corridor, ever vigilant of my surroundin-

"I can't believe it! Manual labor! I thought you had servants doing everything for you, including following you to the bathroom! I s'pose you've forgotten how to use a levitation spell already what with being so famous now?" I gave a twitch and closed my eyes in annoyance. The uncouth voice of the Weasel. What a horrid day.

"No Ronald, Honestly! Underage wizards aren't permitted to perform magic outside of school grounds!" The high pitched voice that replied to the first was as snotty and full of itself as ever. I turned to Granger and sneered at her while my eyes shot sparks of hatred. Stupid Granger and her getting better grades, the indignity! My father used to punish me in horrible ways after he saw my marks. Horrible, degrading things, involving dresses and people seeing me in said dresses! I shuddered.

"Nice hair, Granger," I said insultingly while running a hand over my smooth white hair and looking pointedly at her frizz.

"Oi, Malfoy, don't start this. Hermione looks fine, well, not that I look at her or anything…but…" The Weasel's face turned red and he stopped his blabbering abruptly. He must have realized how ridiculous he sounded. How unusual for him.

"What? I was complimenting her, Ronny boy!" I said with fake, wide-eyed innocence before giving an exaggerated gasp. "Oh! You think her hair is just too hideous for a compliment. My, my, my, and here I thought you were such good friends…"

"MALFOY!" The Weasel bellowed at me incoherently. His face had now lost all resemblance to humanity and was nothing more than a bright red tomato. My smirk widened.

"Ron, Hermione! I thought we agreed," admonished a slightly breathless Harry _bloody_ Potter, interrupting our fun.

Granger gave a small smile at her beloved Potter and then turned to me. I felt my sneer turn to a confused frown as I realized she wasn't frowning or glaring or crying or shouting even though I'd just put her in her proper place.

"I'm sorry Draco; we really haven't been fair to you. After all you've done, you've more than earned our trust and respect." After she said that, they turned, Potter with a death grip on the Weasel's shoulder.

I blinked at the retreating backs of the Gryffindor trio. What was that about? Perhaps this was all a trap? Certainly this was a trap, but what kind? It had better not involve a snare of neckties, because that was my idea.

With a start I realized that Potter had somehow taken the rest of my bags onto the Express while I was preoccupied with pondering their treachery. In an undoubtedly majestic swirl of robes I stalked after them, feeling bothered and confused.

I was beginning to have a very bad feeling about the upcoming year.

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**A/N** Will Draco's dream of being a blonde Indiana Jones become a reality? 

If so, Will Harry 'accidentally' trip into this necktie snare thus 'unwillingly' finding himself at the Slytherin's mercy?

And what of Ron, will Hermione finally give him the juicing he so desperately needs?

Find out the answers to these questions and more in the next chapter! (Well, there will be answers, but not to these questions, as they have nothing to do with the upcoming story.) ;)


	3. The horrible plot!

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****Chapter 3. The Horrible Plot!

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Fourth year. The year in which everyone at Hogwart's held a secret meeting before I arrived and agreed upon a plan:

_Torture Draco Malfoy_

It just wasn't fair, for I should be invited to any secret meetings! I'm very good at plotting.

I noticed this school-wide plot first within my own house. It wasn't as if they were hostile, for to be hostile they would have had to have acknowledged my existence.

Apparently I had come back from summer vacations a ghost. How else could one explain the fact that when my feet so much as touched the edge of the carpet in the Slytherin common room, all conversation ceased, and hushed whispers filled the room? Forcing myself into the conversation had no effect; I was even ignored when they began joking about those stupid, self righteous Gryffindork's and I had so much insight to add to _that_ topic!

One perk about being a ghost: space magically appeared wherever I went, in hallways, on the stairs, at meal times, and even in the bathroom. I _did_ miss the fact there were no more adoring first year boys offering to scrub my back, but I adapted and for the most was okay with the fact that the Slytherin house consisted of a bunch of idiots. My main frustration, though I would never admit it, was the loss of my twin hulking shadows, Crabbe and Goyle. They had been useful in so many ways, too! Stepping stools to get to the higher shelves in the library, pushing first years into ponds at my behest, listening to me rant about Potters disheveled clothing (this used to happen at least twice a week) which had left a hint of nipple showing (this had only happened once, but I was so traumatized it took me months to recover).

I can still see it to this day.

Uh…where was I?

Oh, yes, back to my complaints: I had no more twin hulking shadows following in my wake to give my bullying that special edge, and for all purposes I was no longer considered a _true _Slytherin.

It wasn't as if I'd helped put ALL their parents in Azkaban by disposing of the Dark Lord, just SOME, so I don't know what the problem was anyway!

I was able to handle the aloofness that radiated from my fellow Slytherins much more easily than I could understand the absurd changes within the other three houses. It was if they were bent on disrupting the natural order of things!

It was Potter's fault, really. He started it all at the train station with his pretending to be nice to me. I was on the alert after that, of course, but I had never guessed the putrid depths of his cesspool of a mind until we were officially settled in for dinner that first night. After the scared looking first year mice had been sorted into their houses and Dumbydork had given his usual deranged and rambling speech, Potter sprang his trap.

I had been busy glaring at my fellow Slytherins to make sure they weren't going to hex any of my food. I had also been trying to figure out how to get to said food in the first place, without having to pause my intense glaring, when a shadow fell over my empty plate.

Potter.

He had crossed the distance from the Gryffindor table on the far end of the room (as they should be) as if it was a normal occurrence. As if it was no big deal.

I remember looking up and wondering why he was looming over me, vaguely seeing that the frizzy headed nerdlette and his red lap dog were standing nervously behind him. They should be nervous; Slytherins don't take kindly to interference, especially during dinner. I grabbed the nearest utensil I could find, ready to use it as a weapon if need be. I remember it was a spoon, but I held it commandingly.

I noted that the Weasel's cheeks took on a red hue as he looked down at my manly holding of the spoon. (Does he turn any other color besides red? His family should invest in some tanning charms!) He made a choking sound in his throat. Granger had to pat him on the back as his face twisted and he made an odd coughing sound, I'd never realized how similar fearful coughing can sound to laughter before.

"Draco, Hello!" Potter said, drawing my eyes from his quaking companion.

"Sod off loser." I replied conversationally.

"I wanted to wish you a pleasant dinner." He looked down at his shoes for a moment and shuffled his feet as if waiting for me to say something.

I blinked and narrowed my eyes. What did he WANT from me?

"Bugger off before I tattoo a big 'L' on your forehead next to that ugly scar." I almost held my fingers up to my forehead in the shape of an 'L', but decided that was too passé. I contented myself with sniffing at him condescendingly. "Though in your case it would be an improvement."

This did the trick and they finally let me be, returning to the stinking hole of goodness that was the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. I was certain that such an odd occurrence would not happen again. After all, an intelligent person would choose not to tread where he had been burned before.

Lucky for me, Harry Potter could never be accused of being intelligent. More accurate descriptions would be bullheaded and persistent!

He started popping up behind me at every meal, usually just when I'd taken a bite. As his presence was a shock to my system, I admit that I tended to gasp, choke and spit out food at the sound of his voice. This was probably not enjoyable for my fellow Slytherins. Of course, as I was mad at the lot of them for ignoring me, I didn't bother to aim away. He'd usually appear, greet me, and then say some inane thing that I knew must be code for a threat or insult. Wishing me a nice meal meant that he'd obviously done _something_ to the dishes on our table. If he said he hoped I would have a good day, I knew that he'd be planning something for class later. I was well aware of what his conversational jabs were intended for!

Though, sadly, I still hadn't figured out how he was able to sneak up on me every day. I was watching the room like a hawk and yet there he'd suddenly be uttering _Draco_ in my ear. Gah, I'm shivering just thinking about it!

Worse, The Huffenpuffs, the RawClaws and, yes, even the most wretched and despised Gryffindorks started to take their cue from Potter. He was their little perfect little golden leader, after all. Whatever. Everyone knows blonds are much more fun.

I could handle the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs daring to mock me with their faux greetings, for though they were inferior specimens in the wizarding world, there was nothing personal in my disgust for them. It was the Gryffindors, with their façade of nobility and bravery and sticking their overgrown noses into things which didn't in any way pertain to them, who were the worst.

And, to my shame and dismay, when I returned their greetings with scorn and threats of violence…they tended to…chuckle…at my replies. As if being told their head resembled a squash or that I would personally ensure they couldn't bear any children was _funny_ in some manner. Yesterday, when I passed a group of older Gryffindors, including a few fifth years and one tawny headed sixth year, not only did they stop me on my way to _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ to mock me with '_Hellos'_, but the sixth year student actually reached out and patted me on the back! Me! With his dirty, inferior hands! I screeched, though it may have sounded like a squeak, as I was in a bit of a hurry, and fled. I was wise to their games; after all, I knew they were really trying to see who could steal my wallet first.

Truthfully, annoying though they were, they were not the reason I had started peeking around corners before entering any hallways. It wasn't the annoying losers who were trying to be friendly to someone so obviously above them, or the hulking older students who suddenly felt the need to grab at me with their grubby hands…it was Potter and his little clique that drove me to distraction.

Potter.

He was supposed to be the one steady thing at Hogwarts for me. My nemesis: it had a nice, comforting ring, did it not? He was the boy who kept me on my toes, the person at Hogwarts who made things interesting. Studying for hours so as not to warrant a special visit from father had always been brightened by planning the pranks I would play on Potter the next day. This had gotten me through years one through three. Now, in fourth year, the object of my obsession was slipping away from me.

Wait, _obsession_? That's not what I meant.

Blast, my thoughts have become more chaotic than ever because of that darn Gryffindor!

Even though I continued to prank him, to cause his cauldron to somehow boil over at just the wrong time or his books to fall at the very moment McGonagall was at the quietest part of one of her boring speeches, he would just turn and smile at me with his green eyes crinkling at the corners. There were no more glares, no more red faces, and no more cute-little-lost-puppy-dog-looks at my cruelty.

Of course, this did not deter me from sending death threats and insults his way on my brand new note paper.

I didn't want him to know how much time I usually spent plotting against him (it's best not to tip ones hand, as they say), so I only sent a few notes his way during the odd class.

Well…it's true; though a more accurate description would be that I sent him a note during _every_ class.

Okay, okay, _a few times_ _during every class_. I'd purchased a whole years supply of the paper after all!

Sadly, my notes no longer had the power to make him flustered, and worse, he almost seemed _happy_ to get them. Notes in which I compared his heritage to that of the slime under his oafish grounds keeper's toenails made him chuckle, while death threats just caused him to look at me and shrug with a friendly look on his face.

But today, I was finally feeling happy and assured for I had the perfect note to send his way. This note…this note would exact my revenge for these weeks of torture he and the entire school had heaped upon me! You can imagine the torment they had inflicted on me as it was only the first week of October and I was already driven to such distraction!

It was a brilliant note. After all, I'd spent all night crafting it into a thing of beauty. Though I was not an artist, I had painstakingly drawn Potter and myself fighting with wands. Of course, the Potter in my drawing was short and wimpy and the Draco residing therein was tall and very muscular with a hint of manly blonde stubble. I wish I could grow manly blonde stubble. But, back to the note, after the usual fight, Draco was the victor, and I'd ever drawn little rivulets of blood gushing from Potter's mouth. It was perfect!

As I had already finished my Potions work, I had plenty of time to send my revenge. With a quick glance around the room to ensure confidentiality, I blew the note to Potter. He was still finishing his work. For some reason, all of the bottles he'd lined up carefully to fill had tipped over, losing points for Gryffindor from a scowling Professor Snape. It was as if _someone_ had sent a jinx his way.

I watched as Potter gave a start and looked down at the note which had floated into his hand. He bent to open it, his hair falling on his forehead. I almost giggled with glee. But, as Malfoy's don't giggle, I merely allowed my lips to twitch slightly. Potter stared at the paper for a minute before laying it flat on his desk, and pencil in hand; he began writing on MY note. What was he doing? He hadn't even looked my way to acknowledge my brilliant work!

After Professor Snape called for the last stragglers to turn in their project, Potter finally turned to look at me. With a small smile, he blew my note back. I frowned and grabbed at my defiled masterpiece. The note played out just as I had last seen it, mini Draco, wand in hand shot a spark at mini (and short!) Potter. Mini Potter went down and mini Draco was the victor and once again was sitting triumphantly on his crushed opponent.

"_Wait a minute",_ I thought, bringing the paper closer to my face. Potter wasn't a facedown crushed heap anymore, but was on his back with Draco sitting on his lap! The indignity! That position was not a position of dominance at all! Worse they were smiling, holding hands and waving at me! I was betrayed by my own creation.

I vaguely heard Professor Snape's sharp tones dismissing the class and I watched Potter's departing back through my lashes, eyes narrowed. So that was how he wanted to play this game. He needed to be taught a valuable lesson. Quickly stuffing the five notes I _hadn't_ managed to send his way back in my bag, I ran into the hallway only to smack into a broad back. Just great, this was _not_ my day. Unfortunately, the broad back belonged to Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin teams Keeper. _My_ teams Keeper.

"Malfoy, you're going to be late for practice. Not that it matters. You're just as pathetic as that broom of yours." My teammate hissed down at me.

"My, my, my, are you actually talking to me now? I'm so touched!" I said with mock happiness. He narrowed his eyes, his shaved head looking bumpy and unattractive under the dungeon lights. Really, only a handful of people can look good shaved, yet so many attempt it!

"You'd better watch out that the others don't catch you talking to me. What will all the other lemmings say?" I found myself saying lightly.

"Maybe it's not the broom. Even with the best broom you could never beat that loser Potter." He growled.

I felt my cheeks begin to burn and opened and closed my mouth, no insults springing to my usually ready tongue. To my shame, he was correct. I had never beaten Potter at Quidditch. I thought about defending my ability, after all, I was currently forced to use one of the practice brooms reserved for first years. With such an inferior broom I couldn't be expected to be at top form. But, even with my beloved Nimbus 2001 between my legs, I had never beaten Potter. Why? Why could I never win against that boy?

Now smirking, Bletchley marched down the hall, where he met Montague, and both began walking in the direction of the field. I turned from them, my face feeling tight and dry and I saw Potter standing just a few feet away. His lackeys were no where to be seen, but this was all wrong. Potter had heard the insult.

"Draco…Are they always like that to you?" His voice was husky.

_No, usually they pretend I am not even there, so this could be considered an improvement!_

"Leave me alone." I snarled.

"If you need to talk about it, I can listen." He said softly.

"What's it to you anyway, Potter? This is probably all part of your plan. I'm on to you."

"On…to me?" He sounded bewildered, and I felt a moment of respect for his acting ability.

"I know what you're trying to do and it's no use. I'll always one step ahead of a goody-goody like you." I said with a sneer before turning on my heel majestically. Well, it would have been majestic if I hadn't promptly tripped on my robes and if Potter hadn't caught me by the arm. Needless to say, my exit was less regal than I had hoped.

**

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**

**A/N**

Coming up next!

Draco makes a new friend! Is it:

a) A cute Slytherin girl of good breeding

b) Pansy (_not_ to be confused with a)

or

c) A hulking, grabby pervert

Stick around and find out!


	4. A Secret Admirer?

In response to Kalyca's question (which I replied to but then realized I hadn't actually answered the question as my reading comprehension is abysmal):

The main romance is between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, therefore this is slash.

And on with the show :)

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**Chapter. 4 A Secret Admirer!**

* * *

After that, I increased my efforts to torment Potter. 

After all, he had given me every reason to despise him. I admit, there was a small part of me that wondered '_why?'. _Why I was so fanatical about harassing this other boy? After all, the standoffs of our first years were a thing of the past.

You see, Potter was no longer playing his role.

Even though I continued to insult the trio whenever they graced me with their ill begotten presence, they no longer responded in kind. Potter would smile that smile that was really beginning to give me the chills and turn away. He simply refused to be drawn in by my barbs! Granted, Ronnikins usually turned a gratifying shade of red at my insightful comments about this family's poverty and rabbit like attributes, but he no longer even attempted a reply. Granger just clucked her tongue at me when I called her a mudblood, clucked her tongue like some sort of frizzy brown chicken!

Faced with such underhanded tactics, I was forced to admit defeat and stop ambushing them in the halls. Of course, it took me a mere 85 such confrontations before I admitted that to myself. It was too bad. I had been going methodically through the book **"The Big Book of Bad: _1,001 ways to trick, insult and psychologically torture for the school aged wizard._" **I had _really_ wanted to get to the section on torture.

Potter needed a good torture.

Of course, it soon became apparent that trying to avoid the prat wasn't working either. For some reason everywhere I decided to go, it would seem Potter and gang would soon follow. Really, was it too much to ask if Potter wasn't going to respond properly to my taunts, the least he could do was avoid me as I was trying to avoid him? This turn of events forced me to utilize a most desperate measure: to travel mainly by dungeon.

This was the case today, and luck had so far been on my side. Carefully keeping my body flat to the wall I peered around the hallway towards the Great Hall. No lurking Potter with his hopeful green eyes was in sight, and, I was truly lucky this afternoon as there was no gaggle of first year girls ready to spread out and catch me like a fish in a net. I tore myself from the wall and strode quickly to the Slytherin table, taking my seat with determination.

Of course, there was no plate at my seat, which was not a new occurrence. It was if my fellow Slytherins thought a little thing like a missing plate or cup or bench would deter me. With deceptively lazy looking eyes I scanned the table. Pansy's plate was overloaded with cookies, causing me to crinkle my nose. Really, this was lunch, not tea time! Crabbe and Goyle's plates were practically glistening with grease, heart attacks waiting to happen, and Nott was apparently on an _all meat, all the time_ diet. Ooh, Blaise had a nice mixture of salad and roast chicken and did my eyes deceive me? There were baby red potatoes as well! The garlic kind!

"Accio Plate." I murmured with a discrete flick of my wand at the plate I was eying. Blaise noticed, of course, but as he was pretending there was no such thing as a Draco Malfoy, he merely scowled at the table before rising to get himself a new plate.

I hummed and took a bite of salad before noticing that an owl was heading my way. Owls were a breakfast thing, not something scheduled for lunch. How curious

It was a soft looking white owl, much too fluffy, which meant it was obviously from inferior stock. Its claws precariously clutched a long, thin package wrapped in rough brown paper. As it swooped lower, I realized it was indeed heading my way and I quickly stretched out my hands to catch the item. I was deft and managed to save the food on my plate by swerving the packages trajectory abruptly.

This caused the package to slam into Pansy just as she was drooling over her fourth cookie. She gave a pig like squeal as she was smacked in the face and fell back with a thud. Her feet were now wobbling straight into the air. It was a better look for her than usual as now I couldn't see her face.

I ripped at the package excitedly, tossing the balled paper to my left as I went. It landed with a wet sound in the soup Blaise had just gotten, and a spray of tomato bisque drenched Crabbe and Goyle. Yes, yes, I was very much in the zone today!

My eyes widened as I realized what I had been sent. The package contained a broom.

And not just any old broom, but a Nimbus 2001. This was just like my old broom! And that was not all. There was a note!

_**From a Secret Admirer**_

I had an admirer! Someone held my silky body in the awe it so deserved.

I pondered this turn of events. Who could it could possibly?

Blast it all, why was I born so sexy? My admirer could be anyone at school! Seriously. I couldn't even rule out the teachers. I gave a covert glance towards the head table, but Severus wasn't looking my way. Unfortunately Dumbledore was and our eyes met. He had that demented twinkle in his blue eyes again. I shuddered. Not possible. Eww!

Still not quite believing my wonderful new gift, I felt the urge to share my good fortune with a friend.

It is rather unfortunate that I have no friends.

Well, if I couldn't share with a friend I could at least gloat at a rival. And as luck with have it, my favorite rival - I mean my most **despised** rival - was sitting on his side of the Great Hall eating lunch.

Broom in hand, I deftly crept across the wide room towards Potter.

I moved as silently as a panther as I approached his table. I would finally be the one to do the sneaking-up-on causing Potter to give a girly squeak! Not that I give a girly squeak when he sneaks up on me, no, my reaction surely is always very manly sounding, I'm sure. But this, this would be delicious! Maybe he'd even cry!

Alas for my fantasy, I had forgotten that the entire school was conspiring against me. For even though I was as silent and unobtrusive as a stud like me can be, both the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables were blatantly watching my progress with turned heads, and most of the Gryffindors were looking up from their feeding troths as well.

Potter had turned around on his bench as I approached. He smiled up at me. There was that annoying smile of his again, the one that split his face in two, causing the corners to twitch upward in a look of shy delight. It was so unnerving! I blinked and frowned down at him uneasily. Surely someone who smiled like that must be hiding something; no one looked…happy…like that naturally. But, then I felt the hard wood of the broom in my hand and remembered my mission. There would be no unease for me today; I now had a way to taunt him that would give me the edge I needed!

"Potter." I condescended.

"Draco! Nice day isn't it?"

"Not for a scarhead like you, it isn't. Look at this. The next Quidditch match is in the bag, loser." I stuck my new broom under his nose and couldn't stop myself from grinning down at him triumphantly.

"What a nice broom!" He said, looking at it admiringly.

"Yes, it is…but…look, I know you are just hiding your jealousy, you see…" I leaned over him, my lips not two inches from his ear.

"I have a secret admirer." I said silkily.

"Do you have any idea who it is?" He whispered up at me.

His breath fluttered against my cheek as he spoke. This wasn't right, the closeness was supposed to make him uncomfortable thus giving me the conversational edge!

"No, but it's obviously a girl of impeccable breeding and taste, far superior to any person who would have a crush on _you_." I sneered.

I drew the note out to look at it again with pride.

"Oi, Draco, stop flirting and let's have a look at that!" An unrefined Irish voice came from behind me and I was unceremoniously pulled back.

"Hey!" I said at the hands grabbing my arms torn between surprise at being manhandled and outrage that I was accused of flirting with Potter. As if!

"Give it here, mate." The boy grabbing me was Finnigan. Seamus Finnigan. I thumped down onto a hard lap and felt two arms reach around me for my note, the fabric of his robe making a rustling sound. Finnigans brownish head settled on my shoulder and his breath brushed against my neck as he started to read. The note I had been clutching was pulled up closer to the face now resting on my shoulder.

I was sitting, unwillingly I might add, on Finnigans lap.

Not that I'd really noticed him before as he was classified in my mind as one of the large, unattractive Gryffindors who were always trying to steal my money as I passed by. But this position, this position was completely unacceptable!

This is not how enemies were to treat one another!

I was certainly not supposed to be wrapped in thick arms and trussed on someone's knee! It was if I was a girl!

I think I made a gurgling sound. My hands, which were still stretched before, twitched.

"I don'na think this was written by a girl, look at the writing. Bit too heavy, y'know?" Finnigans rough burr sounded at my shoulder and I could feel his chest rumbling behind me like a drum. I was starting to feel really warm.

With a strangled yep I managed to push through the arm holding me and scramble off his lap. My wild eyes did a quick circuit of the Great Hall.

Everyone, and I mean _everyone_ (including, to my mortification, Professor Snape) was watching me.

I heard a small snigger broke from the far side of the room, which meant it was a Slytherin and from the tone I was pretty sure it was Blaise, darn it all! After that, it started quietly, but soon spread through the room. The Hufflepuffs, loser's one and all, were giggling behind hands and the closer Ravenclaws were outright _laughing_ at my expense, huge maws opened like so many monkeys. At the Gryffindor table a group on the far end had the nerve to stand and point at me, grabbing their stomachs in an exaggerated way, as if laughing at me was making their little tummies hurt. My eyes narrowed at the twin redheads, Fred and George Weasley. They were acting out the lap incident with each other! I had certainly not flailed about helplessly like that!

In fact everyone, except Potter, who was frowning at Finnigan, was laughing at my expense. Even Granger was laughing, and she usually looked like she'd just swallowed the wrong kind of Every Flavor Bean! I had to turn this situation around; I had to reclaim my dignity!

I rounded on Finnigan, grabbing my note back and pointing one slender finger into his chest.

"What is it with you Gryffindors and your oversized bodies and grabby hands?" I huffed. It was not my best, but I was under pressure here. I could feel my face turning red.

"But, mate, calm down, it's not that I'm that oversized, you're just kinda cute and tiny!"

I drew myself up to my full height of five foot five-_er _**six**. "I am a perfectly normal height for a fourteen year old. For your information, boys reach puberty between the ages of twelve and sixteen and the average height for that age is between five feet and five feet nine inches!"

"Awe…you must really be worried about being so short to have memorized all that!" His round, peasant face broke into a smile.

"I thought I just proved I'm not short! You…ugly…rough…poncy…git…" I hissed up at him.

Finnigan laughed and whipped tears from his eyes before straightening to grin in what I considered an evil manner. "Opposites attract they say, so do you like 'em big and rough then?"

Did I like _what_ big and rough? What kind of question was that? I was momentarily at a loss and blinked at him in confusion before deciding that more insults would do the job.

"You're huge body is obviously squeezing all reason from your puny brain. It's your size which is freakish, not mine! Face it; you're as large as those massive Bulgarians!" I waved a hand at the nearby Durmstrang students who were doing their usual Krum worship and grunting as they shoveled in food.

At my heated words the dark haired seventh years from Bulgaria lifted their heads. They were now looking at me. Apparently I had shouted that a bit more loudly than I had realized. Well, it wasn't like our visiting Tri-Wizard contestants were having anything to do with me either; neither they nor the girls from Beauxbatons had acknowledged my existence. Not like I wanted them to, or anything.

Facing this unknown threat, I did what I always do when confronted with a situation that could turn hostile: I sneered and narrowed my eyes threateningly at the entire table of seventh year boys.

I was right to be suspicious, for Viktor Krum, seated directly in the middle of their group gave me a look and then did the oddest thing. He _waggled_ his fingers at me. Not a wave, not a threatening finger pointing, not a fist, but a waggle with just his finger tips. What was that, some sort of Bulgarian sign language to challenge one to a duel? The boy next to him, who looked like he should be wearing a loin cloth and clubbing down a woman to drag back to his cave pursed his lips at me. It was most unattractive for his lips were quite large and his nose was overly long.

He then blew a kiss.

"Gyyaaah!" I said, stepping back, swinging around with my broom still clutched in my hands. The bristles hit Longbottom who went flying into the Ravenclaw table, taking down a salad bowl, a tray of bars and one confused looking Luna Lovegood.

It was not just the students of Hogwart's who were barking mad, but they'd somehow passed their lunacy on to our visiting students! I left the Great Hall in a run.

* * *

A/N 

See you next time at the Yule Ball, where things will start heating up!


	5. Dirty Dancing!

**

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****Chapter 5.Dirty Dancing!**

* * *

As the Yule Ball swung into full party mode, I found my eyes once again sweeping the room. I approved of the white background, contrasted by wintry silver hangings, but not the overuse of ice swans every few feet. Whoever had control of decorations had some sort of fetish.

The three champions chosen for the tri-wizard tournament were just finishing their oh-so–important first dance, and other couples had started joining them on the dance floor. Idiots. It was almost amusing, but even watching Neville trying to impress that young red-haired Weasley girl with a hip gyrating move was not enough to lift my boredom. He hadn't the body necessary to pull off disco! I wondered if my Secret Admirer was among the throng. I hadn't heard any more after that one short note, which was a bit disappointing. Perhaps I was too threatening in some way?

I shifted slightly, resting one leg over the other as I sprawled elegantly against the wall. My dress robe was suitably black, of course, but I had allowed small silver flowers to be embroidered along the front lapel. My robe plunged just low enough against the white shimmer of my shirt to give a hint of a similarly embroidered waist coast.

I'd used the money sent by Mother 'to be spent on Christmas presents'. I think she meant money to be spent on _other people_, but silver embroidery added to the hotness that was me in full formal wear, so it was a worthy use of funds. Plus, I had no friends to buy presents for anyway. Surprisingly, there are lots of fringe benefits to being an outcast.

I'd thought about letting my hair down instead of its usual slick style, but with a shudder at the thought of even remotely looking like father with his long, flowing hair, I'd kept it back. Plus, there was the hope that it might make me appear more manly.

Lately I'd been wondering if some of the other students were mistaken about my gender, even though I knew that this was ridiculous. I may not be as tall as some of the other boys my age, and yes, I am slim as opposed to chubby, but surely there is no mistaking that I am very definitely male?

However, the continued odd behavior on the part of the Durmstrang students had me wondering. There were actually only two behaving oddly around me, but as it was Viktor Krum and that freaky barbarian with the big lips, it was a bit disconcerting. Last week I'd been minding my own business, flicking ice pellets onto some second year Gryffindors as they returned from _Care of Magical Creatures_ when the two hulking Bulgarians had stepped before me, blocking my path.

I had let my customary superior expression cover my face while giving them a dismissive once over with my eyes, willing them away from my presence. I remember this clearly because they had asked such an odd question. They had wanted to know if I would help them _polish their brooms_. This was followed by laughter, as if it was _funny_. Insulted, I had informed them that Malfoys do not engage in manual labor. This had caused them to laugh more.

However, thinking back on it, the oafs hadn't even been carrying any brooms! How dense can one be? Why ask me such silly questions? Luckily, I hadn't crossed paths with that group since, and had only had to deal with Seamus Finnigan continually trying to trip me and then grope me while 'helping' me up. It would never work, for I'd long since stopped carrying money on my person! Well, at least not where _he_ would find it.

But, still, the attention from the Durmstrangs was unnerving and confusing. Maybe I should invest in a mustache and sideburns potion to ensure there were no doubts about my strength and manliness?

Two dancers passed in front of my narrowed eyes and I forced myself back to the present. A smirk came over my face I saw that the mudblood, Granger, was dancing with Viktor Krum. This, of course, caused the Weasel to look like he was going to cry. He and Potter were sitting in the loser section, of course, and he made no attempt to stop his face from twisting into several hilariously woeful expressions. Ah, those less fortunate, how they brighten my day.

As I watched them I felt myself shudder slightly, Weasley's lips are shaped like a frogs and yet he insists on grimacing all the time! Ick! But, on the other hand, watching his anguish alone might lift this night from utter dreck.

"Draco?"

I gave a small yelp. Bother, how _were_ people managing to sneak up on me all the time? Standing a few feet away were two dark haired girls. I believed they were sisters, something and something Patil?

"What?" I snapped lifting one eye brow regally. One was a Gryffindor, and I knew from personal experience the girls from that house could be just as annoying as the boys.

"We were wondering if you wanted to dance?" The Ravenclaw sister asked. I believed her name was Pajama or something. I looked them over as if actually considering their proposal. They had pretty dark hair and their outfits were less stupid than some of the other girls. Really, how many flounces does one person need to feel feminine, Pansy? But…one was a Gryffindor and beside that, I was getting tired of the other houses trying to mess with my mind!

"With you?" I began backing away; not wanting to be cornered by sex deprived teenage girls against the wall. I had to protect my virtue from the undesirables, after all, curse my sexy Malfoy genes!

They nodded and advanced.

"Aren't you with Weasley?" Aha, that diversionary tactic would work! I had totally seen them with Potter and the Weasel earlier. They must be their little dates.

I would have brought a date too, if everyone didn't hate me.

"Yes, but he won't dance with me." This was from Pajama again and she gave a little pout.

"And you think I will?" I sneered.

"You seem like you'd be a great dancer." Parvati said. She was the Gryffindor of the two. I made it a habit to actually know the names of the students from THAT house.

"I am." Unlike Potter, I don't brag, I was merely letting the girls know the truth.

"We thought so! We decided you might be someone who knows how to have a good time." Pajama said.

"Rebel Slytherins like you are kind of sexy." Parvati purred.

"Well…" It was nice to know that not everyone at school was clueless, but no, I must remember that this was all a trap! I increased my backward momentum.

"Most of the girls think so too, secretly, some don't admit it because you act kind of rude all the time. Though some girls, _like Lavender,_" Parvati's said this with a roll of her eyes at her sister, "are in love with Cedric Diggory, she can have him. He's just a big jock. Not that she has a chance with him as he's going with Cho." My mind raced to catch up to the conversational loops the girl was throwing my way. She reached an arm out to take my hand and I just barely evaded, so confused was I by her babbling. The situation was not looking good; they had some sort of logic defying conversational spell ability! Plus, though she was definitely complimenting me, I had the distinct impression that I was not considered to be a _jock_. This was troubling.

"Hold it!" I managed to say while drawing back my arm to avoid her grasping fingers. These girls weren't Granger, so I couldn't actually treat them as they deserved, but I didn't have to be _too_ polite, right? What is it with Gryffindors and molestation? Didn't they understand the concept of personal space?

My back thumped into a wall as the two girls advanced. Their dark eyes appeared to gleam with a predatory light.

Wait one minute.

I was in the middle of the dance floor. There is no wall in the middle of the dance floor! Maybe if I didn't turn around I wouldn't know who I had run into. It had to be a large person. With my luck, it was probably Finnigan.

The wall turned and a large hand landed on my elbow.

"Blond boy? You are cutting in on our dancing?" Viktor Krum. Egads.

"Sod off. I'd never interrupt to dance with a mudblood like Granger." I sneered at Viktor and the nerdlette while trying to edge my way past both him and the girls. At least his bulky form had stopped their pursuit and they were now hanging back at a safer distance. I might just make it!

"Oh, I see. You wished to dance with me then!"

_What the?_

He dropped Granger like last weeks post and she made a satisfying surprised sound as she fell on her backside. I smirked at her flustered face for a second before his beefy arms surrounded me and pulled me into what could be considered a dance, if one had never learnt to dance, that is. One large arm was around my shoulders, pushing my face into his robes while he clamped the other around my waist. Then he dipped me. The blood rushed to my head as I saw the hall from an entirely new perspective. The silver tapestries looked sort of odd with the bottom fringes now on the top and I saw a few ghosts circling the ceiling like wisps of smoke.

He gave me a twirl, and I starting feeling dizzy. I managed to stomp on one of his oversized feet as I spun. He responded by telling me that I was a good dancer. Okay, stomping on feet was not working, onto the next plan of attack.

I struggled, and felt the warm hand on my waist start to move downward. It became apparent that he was attempting to grab a feel. Now that was definitely not proper! No, no, no! I tried saying that to him, but as I had a mouthful of armpit robe at the moment it came out like "Mo, Ko, Mpf!" His hand slipped down my lower back.

I kneed him in the groin.

It wasn't hard to find, situated as I was right between his legs and all. Granted, I didn't have much momentum, but I did manage to bring my knee up with some force. He stopped our so called 'dancing' for a moment and I managed to push away from his chest while spitting out the dress robe I'd been gnawing on in an attempt to eat my way free. Even though what I had done was in self defense, there was a pretty good chance he'd hurt me now. No one likes being hit in the family jewels.

Krum smiled down at me.

Okay…No one likes being hit in the family jewels except Bulgarian freaks.

"Ooh…You are frisky one!" He drooled in my ear before pulling me closer. He wasn't even pretending to move to the song at all now! What was _wrong_ with him?

Things were not looking good for me if he actually _liked_ being beaten. Luckily, I now had one arm free, and it just happened to be my dueling arm.

As I slipped my wand from my robe, his hand began inching southwards again. This was definitely heading into _bad touch_ territory, but mother hadn't warned me about this at the age of five for nothing! I pointed my wand at the short dark hair covering his head. Teach him to try to ambush a Malfoy!

"Incendio!"

Flame began licking outward from my wand as I chanted the spell, and I heard a second spell being cast from behind me.

"Mobili-," It sounded like Potter. What was he going to do, pin me to the Bulgarian jerk with a movement spell? I turned to glare at my nemesis as the small flames flickering atop my wand were hit by his half uttered spell.

I don't know exactly how it happened, but there was a large 'FWOOSH' sound and instead of a controlled fire to teach Krum a lesson in manners there was now an out of control fireball coursing from my wand.

It moved from the now crispy top of Krum's head to set the walls and tapestries of the Great Hall ablaze, looking for all intents and purposes like an invisible dragon was rampaging through the hall.

"Bugger." I said as two silver tapestries caught fire and began falling towards the dance floor below. This was ALL Potters fault.


	6. It was like that before I got here!

**

* * *

****Chapter 6. It Was Like That Before I Got Here!**

* * *

As the fire licked at the Yule decorations, girls started screaming, people starting running and Krum dropped me, his hand going slowly to his now crispy looking, hairless head. I was knocked over as people from the dance floor started running for freedom.

"Oof" I muttered, trying to get up from the crouched position I'd been forced into. Someone's heal ground into my back. I looked up to see Blaise running like a little girl from the hall, his robes pulled up to his waist and his high heals clicking frantically on the ground. The poof, that hurt! It was _almost_ a funny sight to see that his pants were some sort of red vinyl, with two long slits cut into the cheek area showing his ass.

"Draco, here, take my hand!" Potter leaned over me with one hand held out. His glasses had been completely lost in the scuffle. Beggars can't be choosers and if a skinny guy like Blaise could use me as a stepping stool, I'd need help. I frowned warningly at Potter against this being a trick, and reached up to latch onto his hand.

We actually managed to make it out of the hall rather quickly working together. Potter used his elbow to create a path before us and I guarded our rear by hexing anyone who looked like they were gaining on us. The Jelly-Legs jinx was working particularly well tonight. Like I'd let anyone take me from behind!

We burst through the main doors and I turned to block the exit, but Potter yanked me forward before I could complete the spell. How annoying. We stumbled out into the snow covered ground outside.

I collapsed, breathing heavily as Potter sat next to me with his head bowed over his crossed legs. I slid into a more comfortable position and leaned back to watch the students still rushing out. That had worked surprisingly well, getting out together that way. I missed having people to rely on.

Not that I needed anyone, of course.

Students in dress robes and gowns continued streaming out and several teachers ran past. There was a cracking noise and fire shot straight into the sky from the broken ceiling of the Great Hall, followed by a huge wave of water which turned silver in the cold air as it began peppering the people below.

Most students were sitting or standing in small groups by now. Unfortunately, it looked like everyone had gotten out. Blast, this fire _could_ have been a good opportunity to weed out those too stupid to wield a wand!

At least the girls around us had stopped screaming, their whiny voices had been giving me a headache. I saw the Weasel holding a singed looking Granger in his arms, patting her awkwardly on the back. She was completely faking the teary eyed look, I could tell. Come on, nothing scares a pit bull like her!

Two sets of feet crunched their way through snow to stand in front of me. Oh perfect, the Weasley twins.

"Mates, that was great!" This came from the twin whose floppy hair was a slightly lighter shade of red. I would give a name, but I can never remember who is who with those two. Annoying red headed twins should be branded at birth, like cattle, to save the rest of us the annoyance.

"I can't believe you two pulled it off!" Said the other, the tip of his nose was turning red.

"Perfect timing!"

"I didn't even know you could combine those spells! Brilliant, just brilliant!"

"I mean I thought us charming the punch bowls to be 40-proof was something." One said turning to the other.

"And did you see what the fire did to _that_?" The other replied.

"Major fireball!" They cackled together.

I let my head drop back on the ground in annoyance, feeling Potter chuckle next to me.

"Glad you guys er…enjoyed it." He said quietly. "No one got hurt, did they?"

"Naw, it wasn't that kind of fire, smart, that! They can't accuse you of intentionally hurting anyone. It just took out fabrics and then hit the walls and went up. It was wicked looking! I don't think the ceiling is gonna be the same again!" I scowled up at them, so my fire was impotent, was it? Granted, I had been focused on burning Krum's hair only, so that explained the situation, but I would definitely have to work on making sure my spells worked as they should!

"Oi! Let's go check out the girls! I heard a few dresses went up in flames, this is just too perfect!" The two gangly dorks ran off with me glaring at their backs. Idiots. They were now gathering handfuls of snow and muttering over them. I lost sight as they hid behind a tree, and closed my eyes for a second. The chaotic voices of frightened students seemed farther away and I could finally hear the faint sound of wind sweeping over snow. I sighed.

"I like your hair that way." Potter's husky voice came from beside my ear.

Sweeping a hand upward, I felt the silky strands of my hair slip through my fingers to fall back on my forehead. Through the fight with Viktor Krum and the mad dash from the fire, the hold charm must have knocked loose. Bah. Gel is never enough. I thought about insulting Potter's hair in response, but felt tired and oddly spent. An odd idea was playing through my head.

"You've seen my father, Potter. This doesn't make me look…like him?" I heard myself saying, one hand still trying to push my hair back into place.

"No! It makes you look less like him, actually. I think it really suits you."

I eyed him for a minute trying to decipher his true intent, my hooded eyes searching his face for deception. It was the first time I noticed that his eyes were fringed with really long lashes. They made his eyes appear deep and yet bright at the same time, one would almost call them _piercing_.

"Well, you look better too, without your glasses." _What?_ Why had I said that? At least I sounded suitably snippy about it.

"Thanks Draco." He said softly.

"You don't look good, mind you, but better than usual for you." I amended quickly. He just smiled.

"Harry! May I take your picture please? They say you and Draco have pulled off the prank of the year!" The rude interruption was from that mousy blonde stalker who was always following Potter around. Another member of Potter's Gryffindor fan club, Colin Creevey.

"Colin…er…but you weren't even at the dance…how did you…" Potter said in a flustered tone. It was all an act; we all know Potter loves the attention.

"Oh, but, it's all over the dorms! Just one second, if you both wouldn't mind smiling?" Creevey brought a bulky camera up to his face and took aim.

_**FLASH**_

"Sod off." I snarled; blinking fiercely against the light burning my retinas.

"But…you two are considered the perfect team and here you are holding hands, like true friends. Just one more picture Harry? I won't sell it or use it for anything, I'll just hang it above my bed next to the other pictures I have of you." The whinny brat asked. He gave Potter a lost-puppy look while I rolled my eyes. Just because I had accidentally helped Potter with _You-Know-Who _did not make us a team! Though, I could just picture Colin in his little bedroom, the walls covered in half naked pictures of Potter.

_Wait…_

_Holding hands?_

I looked down and saw that Potters hand was under mine. Our fingers were entwined and my hand felt warm and comfortable, protected from the snow. We were still holding hands? But, surely we would have stopped holdings hands once we sat down. Did this mean the little bugger had a picture of Potter and me sitting on the ground HOLDING HANDS?

_**FLASH**_

"Wow, that's even better; you're both staring down at your hands! Draco, w-would you mind not glaring just for one picture?" His high pitched, insect like voice broke through my shock.

"Give me that film." I replied in a deceptively quiet voice. I reached for my wand. Creevey gave a straggled little "_eep"_ and took off. I aimed at the small target of his retreating back, just as a restraining hand landed on my arm.

"Draco, there are teachers all over." Potter said.

I looked around and saw that he was correct. In fact at that moment, Madam Pomfrey dashed past us towards a group of girls whose dresses were the worse for wear. The Weasely twins were hovering in that area with lecherous grins. I heard the girls' outraged wails and one of the Weasley twins saying "We were just making sure the fire was out!"Losers.

Professor Snape was also standing nearby yelling at some seventh year Ravenclaws who had been attempting to reenter the Great Hall. I let my wand drop; it would be unwise to tip my hand now. I would wait and plot and somehow finagle access to the Gryffindor dorms before giving a certain Colin Creevey the sweet death he deserved.

"Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter!" I frowned at the harsh voice, how many interruptions must I endure tonight? Professor McGonagall arrowed in on us, robes floating behind her. Her hair was sticking up in what could only be considered a singed Mohawk. I sniggered.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry replied, standing. I followed suit, grumbling in annoyance. The back of my dress robe had not been spelled to withstand wetness and sitting in the snow had created an uncomfortable wet circle on my back and upper thighs.

"Never in all of my years here at Hogwart's have I seen such blatant disregard for our most sacred rules. You are only saved from expulsion by the fact that the fire was specifically attuned to cause no physical damage to living creatures. If you had harmed a single hair on anyone's head we would have been left with no other alternatives." Ha! They obviously hadn't seen Viktor Krum then! Though, truthfully, maybe they had and just hadn't noticed any difference as he always looked half baked.

* * *

"Look, I wasn't trying to set fire to the hall; I was just trying to stop someone from physically assaulting me!" I snarled for the fifth time from a rather hard chair in McGonagall's office two hours later 

"Yes, so you say, but we have Mr. Krum's statement assuring us that he was not assaulting you. He claims that you were dancing together. And you, Harry, I expected better from you than to help with such a dreadful scheme." She looked over her glasses at Potter, with her hands folded precisely before her on her desk. Sometimes she reminded me of Granger, especially as she was staring at Potter with reproachful eyes at his supposed fall from grace. I snorted while rolling my eyes. She obviously believed that no better could be expected from a Slytherin like me, but this was _Saint Potter!_ No, Potter was too _perfect_ to do any such thing! Bloody judgmental Gryffindors. And they say Slytherins are a bunch of snobs!

"I'm sorry; I acted without thinking, really. I just wanted Krum to back off and leave Draco alone." He muttered.

"Really?" I turned to him, both eyebrows raised in surprise. This was new. McGonagall had been spending most of her time lecturing so we hadn't even gotten to Potter's explanation before. That woman really likes to hear the sound of her voice!

"I was trying to move him away, I didn't care where. He was being-" His voice cut off as his face twisted slightly as if he couldn't quite find the right words.

"A complete git." I kindly finished for him. I gave McGonagall an arch look to see if she understood that she'd had the situation all wrong, even scarhead was backing me up! I heard a throat clearing beside me and swung my attention back to Potter.

He was looking up at me through the dark hair falling over his forehead. "Unless you liked it?"

"What? Are you kidding? How stupid can you be?" I snorted.

"Sorry, it's just that I wasn't sure. I wasn't thinking…clearly at the time."

"I assure you, when I dance, I am the lead. And there is actual dancing going on. You probably won't believe it, but I think he was trying to feel me up!" I gave a shudder.

"I saw." Potter said darkly, his voice almost lowering an octave.

"Tough for him, I wasn't carrying a wallet. Though, you'd think the knee to his groin would have been a clue that I wasn't an easy mark." I raised an eyebrow at Potter, knowing I looked aloof and in control even though my hair was sweeping my forehead.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you admitting to physically assaulting Mr. Krum?" The high pitched voice cut in and drew my attention back to McGonagall, who then started blabbering on about how violent I was. I wondered if I could knock myself out by hitting my forehead repeatedly against her desk.

We got detention, and lost a boatload of house points, but as Potter was Dumbledore's little pet we didn't get the suspension or expulsion that McGonagall clearly wanted to give. On the plus side, the detention was with Professor Snape.

Also, it wasn't even any sort of _real_ detention, Severus made Potter stripe down to his underwear (dark blue boxer briefs, not that I looked) and had the black haired boy dust his potions room. He explained that Potter was to dust each bottle individually and then stood watching him like a greasy haired a hawk. My detention time was spent working on homework and watching Potter make a fool out of himself. I'd never seen anyone who could tan blush so easily.

It did bother me a tiny bit that Severus didn't want _me_ to strip down to my skivvies and bend over low shelves. Could it be that I was not considered the most attractive fourth year boy? No, no, that was impossible. Clearly, Severus knew that Potter would be embarrassed by this, whereas I, having nothing to fear from others eyeing my beautiful body, would not.

We learned later that the Great Hall would probably never be the same, as the fire had completely altered the enchanted ceiling. Instead of showing the stars and sun above, now it had a direct link to the window of Hagrid's hut. The big oaf. Normally, I would consider this a horrible thing, but as Hagrid knew about the constant surveillance, it made for some pretty funny viewing as he tried to sneak about his own hut. He'd hung some really awful gold curtains over his window, but you could still totally see what was happening inside.

There was a rumor floating around that if you slipped into the Great Hall at night, you could see Hagrid trying to mother his newest pet, a hideous creature that he kept in a tub of water under the kitchen table. They said that it was some sort of squid creature. I was waiting for it to grow big enough to use the bearded fool as a baby rattle.

My greatest disgust with the whole mess involved the fact that I had once inadvertently glanced up and gotten an eyeful of a half dressed Hagrid changing in front of his window.

_Hairy_ doesn't begin to describe it!


	7. The Bookish Plot in the Library

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* * *

Chapter 7. The Bookish Plot in the Library.

* * *

**

Final Exams were now almost upon Hogwarts, as the months after Christmas had sped by a blur. Though I didn't have to worry about Father any longer, I was still following my yearly ritual of careful preparation for each subject. This explained why I was now in the library eyeing the towering shelves in front of me. This time, I would defeat Granger in Potions, at the very least! I believe I've earned that much after suffering through such a horrid year.

Lost in happy thoughts of a defeated mudblood crying in rags before me, I gave a start as I heard the rustle of robes. A first year from my own house, Malcolm Baddock, was now standing a few feet away. I searched my memory for him and placed him as quiet, studious type, but then, wasn't every Slytherin quiet around me this year? His light brown hair was slightly long, falling straight to his chin, but his robes were well tended and correctly ironed. I approved of that. A Slytherin should always look proper.

Hmmm…his presence did provide me with several interesting possibilities.

"Hello, little boy." I said.

He twitched away from the shelf he had been eyeing and looked at me with widening eyes. I tried to grin sweetly at him, though I'm not sure if I succeeded, I'm _much_ better at condescending smirks.

"Would you like some candy?" I patted a pocket of my robe suggestively and winked. His forehead wrinkled in confusing.

"You're the blood traitor. I'm not supposed to talk to you."

_Blood Traitor?_ So, that's what they were calling me. How dreadfully predictable. I was as supportive of the superiority of pure bloods as I had ever been! Plus, it should be remembered, helping Potter had been an accident! An accident! I growled deep in my throat and Malcolm took a step back.

Instantly, I smoothed my features into a pleasant expression.

"Well, it's not your fault that they're wrong. But you, _you_ seem smarter than that, don't you…Malcolm?" I smiled again, radiating charm at him like heat waves in the desert. He smiled back.

"But they might start ignoring me too! I really shouldn't be talking to you." He whispered furtively, but didn't move away.

"I won't tell, if you don't." I smiled again and it looked like I almost had him when chattering voices approached the end of our row. A small group of other first year Slytherins walked by. The boy gave a gasp and ran after them, his black robe disappearing around the corner.

Blast! How was I to reach the book now that my stepping stool had run off? I pulled the chocolate frog from my pocket and nibbled on a twitching leg, frustrated. As the warm chocolate melted over my tongue, I carefully levitated a book from the lower shelf. I hated having to do things myself, and hated using levitation, as it was usually not a very steady prospect. Unfortunately slave labor had become elusive as of late!

I stepped gingerly on the wobbly book, finally reaching the _Potions of the East_ book I'd been eyeing. It was a bit embarrassing as I knew _Pot –_ er_ some_ fourth year male students could probably easily reach the sixth shelf. I tugged at the binding, letting my fingers play on the soft material of the cover in approval. This looked like it would be just the book I needed to give me an edge in the upcoming potions final exam. I pulled it out completely and was suddenly faced with a dark eye blinking at me through the bookshelf.

A hideous, shadowy, disembodied eye.

I screamed.

I fell back to crash into the book case behind me.

"Blonde boy? Was that you?" A muffled voice came from the aisle across from me. Ack. Ack. Ack. Better a disembodied eye of evil than what sounded very much like one of those beastly Bulgarians. And, as his eye had been at the sixth shelf he was probably that really tall one with the hair shaved off in patches and the big nose who liked to make kissy faces at me. Really tall and really muscular and really grabby.

I had to hide!

I tiptoed down past the shelved books as quietly as I could, as I reached the end I carefully peered into the other row. A darkly robed, broad back was lumbering down the row of books away from me. I had been correct in his identity, it _was_ that annoying Bulgarian!

As he disappeared around the corner, I sprinted forward, aiming for the study tables a few rows down. I could make out a few bowed heads, and people meant safety, right?

Unfortunately, my luck was still rotten, for one of the tables contained a certain dark haired Gryffindor. By the welcoming smile aimed directly at me and the light in his green eyes, he had spotted me. Bugger. I couldn't have him thinking I was afraid of him now that our eyes had met, for I'm no coward! The fact that I was walking quickly away from a Durmstrang stalker did not make me fearful, after all, but quick-witted, which is one of the requirements for a Slytherin!

"Potter." I narrowed my eyes at him warningly before sweeping a glance around. I didn't think I could easily be seen from here, but I should probably sit if I wanted to remain hidden.

"Would you like to join me? I'm studying for Defense against the Dark Arts." He said without a break in that patented warm smile, the edges of his mouth were doing that slight curling up thing that the girls found _so _endearing. How does he do that? When I smile like that my cheeks begin to hurt. I sat down next to him.

"Look I'm not sitting _with_ you, I just happen to be sitting in the chair _next_ to you. Just so we're clear." I said quietly, my head swiveling as I sent another quick glance around the room.

"That's fine, I'm happy for the company either way." He said before returning to his book. I fidgeted and wondered if I should try for the exit. But, what if that smelly Durmstrang was waiting for me with outstretched arms? Ick!

"Is everything okay?" Potter asked after a few minutes. Apparently, my fidgeting had been noticeable. I wasn't fidgeting because I was scared, mind you; I was merely restless because I was alert and primed for a fight. It was adrenaline, not fear!

"Of course everything's just _perfect_, Potter." I sneered. But then I found myself sighing. "No. I don't know. One of those bloody Bulgarians is stalking me again, that large nosed one."

"Oh, I bet it's Kristoff."

"Why in the world would I possibly know his name? He is beneath my notice." There was a silence between us. Potter cleared his throat.

"Well…they say he's quite taken with you; I think he and Krum have a…bet." Potter said in that careful way he sometimes employs, usually when talking to Snape, as if each word has to be just right.

"A bet? Is that why they've been messing with me?" I scowled down at the table; this just wasn't making any sense!

"Erhm…he's not trying to mess with you in the way you think."

"Oh really? Then why is he making faces at me all the time and saying such stupid things?" I replied, raising my eyebrows at him in a condescending manner.

"Well, he likes you. He's trying to get your attention." Potter mumbled.

"That's an idiotic way to try to get a friend, Scarhead."

"Draco, he doesn't want to be your _friend_. He _likes_ you."

"Don't be an idiot."

He moved his head closer and I could feel his breath on the side of my cheek. "Likes you, likes you. You know, like Cho and Cedric."

"But, they're dating…" I replied in confusion, watching the way the overhead lights created subtle shadows under his cheekbones. I had never noticed before, but Potter had very nice bone structure. If he wasn't always hiding behind such atrocious glasses he could almost be considered attractive. He nodded in response to my question and my mind tried to process the new information. My eyes widened slightly in understanding. The idiot dared to think he had a chance to date me? How insulting!

"Does that offend you?" He asked softly as I sat wordlessly, apparently suffering from a Stupefy hex.

"Bah." I snorted. "It's not that, I'm no judgmental prude like you Gryffindorks with all your muggle born prejudices. But, those two are messed up, if that's why they're always grabbing at me." I still wasn't sure if I believed him, but things were starting to add up in my head.

"Not to defend them, but you are hard to talk to. You tend to act as if most people are insects."

"Most people _are_." I gave him a quick sweep with my eyes let him know that present company was most definitely included.

"Well, that may be why they're doing this…but…" He sighed for a second and I felt his breath come in a warm rush over my hands now as he was looking down.

"It does make a sick sort of sense, this theory of yours, Potter." I said his name with my usual bite, not wanting him to think I was _too_ friendly. "But, bloody hell, I've only barely escaped from being mauled several times! Perverts."

"It makes me want to send them back to Bulgaria."

I blinked at him and realized we were sitting so close that the lengths of our thighs legs were just barely touching. I'd not been able to talk like this with a friend in a long time, and I didn't quite want to move away. I felt an ache in my heart for a second, a mix of loneliness and excitement and longing. I didn't miss having friends this much, did I? I mean if talking to a loser like_ Potter_ could make me nostalgic?

"Hey, what do you say to Apparating them to some remote, icy island?" I said flippantly to cover my confusion, I sounded snide enough, like myself.

"They say it can't be done, haven't you read _Hogwart's, A History_?" His tone was teasing.

"Bah, I don't need to, everyone hears Granger reciting it all over the place." I waved my hand. Potter gave a small chuckle in reply just as there was movement behind us.

"Oi! How are my two favorite boys doing today?" Seamus Finnigan pushed himself between our huddled heads, draping heavy arms over our shoulders.

"Finnigan, remove your hand or things will become very painful for you." I stated coldly, trying to wiggle out from under his arm. Potter elbowed him quickly in one smooth movement, which I admired. There was a _reason_ he was so difficult to defeat during Quidditch after all!

"Awww, Harry!" Rubbing his stomach, Seamus backed off Potter. Unfortunately, he then focused all of his ill mannered attentions onto me, hugging me like a needy five year old with his favorite teddy bear. One of my arms was free, so I tried elbowing him like Potter had, but missed and hit the chair behind me instead.

"Ow!" I muttered.

"Seamus." Harry said in a low voice while I focused on rubbing my pained elbow. I'd hit it in just the wrong place, flashes of sharp pain pushed through me all the way to my teeth.

"Yes, Mate?"

"I thought the rash I hexed you with after last time was warning enough."

"That rash! Yikes, I know. I learned to avoid _you_ in the bathroom. That thing itched for three weeks!"

"That wasn't the lesson you were supposed to learn, Seamus! Stop it!"

"But he's like a cute little toy!" Finnigan patted me on my head, causing my hair to flutter against my forehead, a common occurrence now that I wore it without gel. Not that Potters opinion had influenced me when he said it made me look less like Father; I just felt I needed a change. Wait, did that Irish git just refer to me as a _toy?_

"I beg your pardon, but I am too gorgeous to be like any such thing!" I huffed into the robed arm currently anchoring me into my chair. Finnigan started slipping his hand down the front of my chest and I saw my opportunity. I lunged and bit his thumb.

"Ow! You are a frisky one, just like Krum says." The Irish boy chuckled, apparently undeterred as his hand stroked down my flat chest again. Geesh! Didn't anyone react normally to pain in this school? I began searching in my robe for my wand, which was rather awkward going with the Irish lout hanging off me.

"Seamus! Do I need to repeat the lesson?" Harry said more loudly, rising halfway from his chair. His voice cracked slightly. Ha! My voice never cracks. Of course, one's voice has to go down an octave for that to be a problem.

Finnigan's round face split into a grin, but he finally stopped molesting me. I straightened my robes with a scowl on my face while eying him discreetly for any future movements. It occurred to me that the Irish student could be considered a normal looking boy, with even features, if it weren't for his horrible personality getting in the way.

"Okay, okay, can I join you two then? Sitting with the two of the hottest blokes in school to uh, _study, _sounds like fun!"

"No!" Potter and I said together.

"Okay, okay, I know when I'm not wanted. I'll just be over with Dean trying to get him to stop ogling Ginny for two seconds. Bit of a shock for him that she's been seeing Creevey. Call me if you need me lads." Finnigan sauntered off towards a now worried looking Dean Thompson. I would be worried too if I saw _that_ coming my way!

"Bleah." I muttered while sticking my tongue out slightly at Finnigan's back. "I've had Gryffindor in my mouth now. My purity is definitely besmirched." Potter stared at me, blinking, before he started to chuckle.

"Seamus is just having trouble with the whole puberty thing."

"Oh, face the bloody truth Potter; your housemates are all a bunch of freaks! You just know it's all the repression you Griffies have to go through. It's not healthy."

We were interrupted by a rude voice behind us. "The only freaks are the people _you_ hang out with, Malfoy!"

Oh, how I loathe the sound of Weasel in the morning! Especially when he's trying to be witty and failing miserably. Really, some people should leave that sort of thing to the experts. I turned to glare at him and saw that his face was scrunched into a look of irritation, causing his nose to crinkle in the middle as he glared. What? Couldn't handle the truth about his house? His frizzy haired girlfriend was sitting next to him, and they had several books spread out in front of them. I couldn't help but notice that the books in front of Weasley were facing the wrong way.

"Looks like you've been studying _real_ hard there, Weasel." I sneered with a pointed look at his books. He looked down and turned red, _again_, eh, at least it made his freckles disappear slightly. Granger frowned at me for a minute, her overworked brain visibly clicking for a retort. Suddenly, her eyes widened at the sight of something behind my back.

"Oh my! Is that a Durmstrang boy coming this way? He looks mad!" She pointed over my shoulder.

I may have squeaked, but I'm happy to say my self preservation kicked in and I managed to dive under the table to hide. With luck, that freak would think Potter just had _really_ long legs. I tried to glance covertly around from under the table, but from my vantage there was just the bottom half of a few seated students and straight, wooden furniture legs. The Weasel's left shoe had a hole and his socks were mismatched. He was wearing one white sock and one black one!

Above me, there was a quiet snicker.

"Hermione, please!" Potter's voice rumbled from over the table. In response to his comment I heard high pitched laughter, definitely Granger. Why was _she_ laughing? It is commonly known that she has no sense of humor whatsoever for she has never laughed at any of the marvelous jokes I've made at her expense. I narrowed my eyes at the robed knees in front of me before seeing Potters legs shift back and his hand reach under the table.

"Draco, they're just teasing you." He said in an apologetic voice as I let his hand pull me partway up.

"What?" I squawked with one hand on his lap as I managed to scrabble to my knees. I peered around his chest to see two laughing Gryffindors. This was not a dignified situation, to have been caught hiding under a table. I felt my face flush with anger.

"Draco, I'm really sorry." Potter said down at me, laying one hand on my shoulder before turning back to his repulsive friends. "Guys! You promised not to mess with him! He's had a really tough year, and you always tell me to stick up for those in need, Hermione." He sounded reproachful.

I wiggled myself away from Potter and glared at the other two; ignoring the fake apologies that mudblood threw my way. It was just lip service to make Potter stop glaring at her, she didn't mean it.

As I stalked from the library, I almost hoped I'd meet that bloody Bulgarian now, I was feeling just that violent.

The year could not end soon enough!


	8. Parting and Not a Moment too Soon!

**A/N**

I'm sorry for the delay, but I'm finally back from vacation. I tried to upload the night before we left but the server wouldn't let me. Thus, this is all technologies fault, not mine – scouts honor! I would have uploaded while traveling but I became…umm…lost in the umm…huge tracts of wild jungle surrounding…Tokyo. There were giant robots involved somewhere too, again, scouts honor!

* * *

**Chapter 8. Parting – And Not a Moment Too Soon!**

* * *

If you've seem one crying Durmstrang student, you've seen one-too-many.

Kristoff was apparently very sad to leave Hogwart's. Truthfully I would be sad as well to have to go back to some cave of a wizard school buried under a mountain of the snow. Though not enough to cry about it in front of the entire school! Kristoff, however, had no such tact, and he was crying in a way that could only be described as yowling. In addition, he had scrunched his face up so tightly that it was beginning to turn a most unattractive shade of red. He sort of resembled a mandrake root.

I hate mandrake roots.

He and the rest of our visiting barbarians were standing on stage in a straight line behind Karkaroff like so many toy soldiers. The kind I used to play with as a child. It made me feel like flicking one finger at the end of the red coated line and knocking them over one into the other. Of course, Kristoff was the only student not standing straight and impassive like the rest and his sniveling form would probably obstruct any such domino effect. He was currently wiping his nose on his sleeve and had moved from loud yowls to more subdued sniffles. I felt my lip curl in disgust.

Ha! Too bad for him, their bags were packed and the boat was waiting! I'm sure we'd _try_ not to let the gangplank hit them too hard on the way out!

It seemed Kristoff's incessant crying was too much even for the stony faced Durmstrang Headmaster, for he gave an abrupt gesture with his hand halfway through a monologue on the importance of diligence and the group turned and departed the stage.

I shifted in my seat as our visitors from Beauxbatons rose to stand before the seated assembly. Oh goody, this nice little get together was going to last even longer now! Madam Maxime addressed the crowd in her alarmingly manly voice, but lucky for me, I can't understand her accent at all so it was just wordless background rumble for me. I spent the time trying to decide what species she could possibly be. I was guessing something crossed with a Yeti.

There was a hush from the students around me and I turned my head slightly to see that most of the boys and some of the girls were now drooling and looking at the stage with glassy eyes. The palpable lust erupting around me was understandable, for Fleur Delacour had just taken the stage in a flutter of blonde tresses and a swirl of blue.

I eyed her speculatively. There's a rumor floating around that she's part Veela, but really, I don't believe it. _I'd_ never been affected by her Veela hormones to find her the least bit attractive. Therefore the only logical conclusion was that she must not be an actual Veela. I'm as straight as they come, after all, and I'm sure if she were such a creature, I'd feel the pull.

Which, of course, I would manfully resist, having much too strong a mind to be swayed by such a trivial thing.

Crabbe, seated to my right (he'd lost the seating shuffle and been forced by Professor Snape), began moaning at her. Yes, big boy, I'm sure girls love being drooled on by an oversized farm hand! After a disgusted look in his direction, I squinted at the girl on the stage, trying to figure out her big allure. Sure, she wasn't repulsive, and to her credit she was a blonde, but she was much too girly in my opinion to be considered desirable.

There was a clatter from my left and I peered down the row towards the Gryffindor section to see that Weasley had fallen off his chair. He was now sprawled on the ground, his legs spread eagle and his robes covered in dirt and grass. The dirt was such a nice contrast for the frayed edges of his robe. It gave him _just_ the right look to be named poster boy of the year for the _wizard pauper _club. Why must Hogwart's allow the undeserving to tramp about destroying the beauty of our school?

Lucky for Weasley, Potter was there to lift him back to his seat; else I was pretty sure he would have remained thrashing about on the ground during the whole speech. As Potter struggled with his lanky friend, I noticed Granger was sitting with a look of absolute fury on her face down the row. Feeling a little jealous now, oh frizzle?

I smirked.

Potter shoved Weasley into what could be considered a seated position (if one was a drooling toddler) and glanced up. Unfortunately for me, he seemed drawn to the Slytherin section and our eyes met. He had better not be thinking that I was watching him; it was Weasley who had drawn my attention after all! He smiled at me after catching my stare.

I scowled in response and gave him the finger. _Just tie your friend to his chair and stick a rag in his mouth Potter, you wus!_

To his credit, my nemesis wasn't drooling over Fleur like the rest of the boys. The only reaction he had was a slight flush to his cheeks, but that could be attributed to wrestling with a handful of Weasel. I wretched my eyes away from Potter and perused the seated students near me. The only boys behaving in a normal manner appeared to be Finnigan, a Hufflpuff name Finch-Fletchley, and my fellow Slytherin's Nott and Blaise. I tried to make some sense of those students, but couldn't, for they were all so different. If Fleur was exuding some charm, why were they exempt like I was?

And to make matters worse, Finnigan wasn't even awake! He was napping with his mouth hanging wide open! I admit, I was jealous, for I am not able to sleep unless in a proper bed. Stupid, barbaric Gryffindors and their ability to sleep anywhere. I've even seen Potter nodding off in Potions, as if _anyone_ could sleep with such a magnificent teacher as Professor Snape nearby! Hmm…perhaps now would be a good time to practice levitation, if only there was a slimy creature nearby to accidentally send down Finnigans throat. My eyes swept the area to fall on a well known and certainly very slimy creature. I considered the possibility with a frown. No, no, Dumbledore was much too large to fit down even such a huge opening, plus people might notice a levitating Headmaster.

I wondered if Lardbottom had his idiotic toad nearby.

Tinkling bells broke through my thoughts, and I realized everyone was standing. Ah, the social hour. With tea. Joy. Couldn't our visiting students just _leave_ already? Then, the rest of us could finish packing and this year would finally be finished!

I stood and stretched languidly. Let's see now, what shall I do at a nice school wide event such as this? I could go Slytherin scattering. This was much like scattering a gaggle of pigeons but much more satisfying. Unfortunately, this could only be done when Professors were around as to do this without such protection might occasion violence against the innocent party (me). Or, perhaps I could torment some younger students for their nefarious crime of being born too late? As I contemplated this, a shadow fell over me. I truly didn't want to turn to face it, for the hovering darkness was accompanied by a soft weeping sound. I peeked out of the corner of my eye.

Yes, I'm such a lucky boy, it was indeed Kristoff!

His eyes were red and two slimy wet paths were making their way down his cheeks. Why do people cry in public? It is _so_ unattractive.

"B-bl.." He gurgled at me.

"Yes, yes, you're very sorry to be leaving Hogwarts." I waved my hand at him and took a step back, my leg hitting the seats behind me. Blast! Well, if need be I could jump the seats to escape this annoyance.

"B-but…I'll miss you!"

"Ah…uh…we'll miss you too. Well, not me personally, but I'm sure _somebody_ here will. Though, really, I can't imagine _who_."

In response, he pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket. This was not looking good. I would have to get him to stop crying for my own sanity! I tried again, even though it was taxing me to be so nice. "Well, anyway, have fun back in your native land doing whatever it is you people do, you know, throw trees at each other, that type of thing. Think happy thoughts and I'm sure you'll be able to stop this babyish bawling."

"I do miss the sniffle trees."

"Great. Bye now!" I made shooing motions with my hands.

"Will you write?" He sobbed.

"No."

"I'll write yooouuuu..."

"Right. I'm glad that you finally mastered the ability. Literacy. And _just_ in time for graduation!"

He blew his nose in my general direction. Really now, was he a five year old trapped in the body of a seventeen year old? I frowned at him; this could be quite a long afternoon if I couldn't rid myself of his dripping annoyance. Hmmm…

"Oh Kristoff." I gave my most sincere smile, which twitched slightly towards the land of smirk, but I'm happy to say I solved that little problem by baring my teeth.

"Yes?"

"Your Head master is calling for you. Looks super important. You best see what he wants." I purred at him.

He apparently bought it for after a few more soggy words in my direction he was soon immersed in the crowd. I could still hear his sniffling, but joyfully it was receding. His Headmaster was in an intense glaring contest with Professor Snape and would not appreciate being interrupted by a sniveling student. Ah, stupid people, how they make life easier!

Again, I felt a pang of sadness at the loss of my _own_ stupid people: Crabbe and Goyle.

I found my past tools at one of the desert tables, like two pigs at a trough. Crabbe had somehow managed to get the white tablecloth stuck down the front of his pants. I wondered if I should stay to watch the fun that was sure to happen in that corner, but decided against it. A grabby Finnigan or that annoying Krum noticing me was best to be avoided. A quick scan of the crowd gave me hope, for I noticed a certain frizzy haired nerdlette had _Krum-the-stalker_ by one arm. She would keep him at her side with idiotic questions about boring subjects for hours, leaving him too busy to annoy me. Granger, be glad, for you have finally served a purpose in life! Between her and the students who wanted his autograph, I would be saved the annoyance of talking to any more Durmstrangs!

I started walking back to my dorm, only managing to Slytherin scatter one measly group of second year students on the way, though happily, my sudden presence and sinister "Boo" at an auburn haired boy did make him squeak. Unfortunately, he then dropped his cake. That was disappointing, for nothing tastes better than food you've bullied off of someone else! I sighed down at the cake lying on the ground, its moist white filing now mushy and unpalatable. Maybe I should teach the boy that dropping the cake which a Malfoy was eying was a serious crime?

"Cake?" A most unwelcome voice asked from behind me while I was sizing up my new auburn haired toy.

"Potter." I turned my head and gave him an intense glare. I'd been working on making my eyes look like cool gray pools of derision in the mirror; hopefully it'd work and scare him off. In response, he merely smiled at me while holding a small plate in each hand. Something was wrong with his robe; it was hanging off one shoulder like he'd been wrestling someone, which, remembering Weasley, he had. Unfortunately his appearance had driven my prey away and now it was just my enemy and I standing in our own little bubble of solitude.

I much preferred my bubble of solitude to contain only me!

"Yes, I'm _Potter_ and you are Draco." He replied with a teasing note to his voice, giving Potter the clipped note I tended to impart it with. Was he _mocking_ me?

"Why aren't you with the Weasel? Shouldn't you be protecting the general public from his lechery? Come now Potter, you are supposed to be our little savior!" I said, moving to the attack lest he think to mock me again.

"Ron promised he was doing better, now that Fleur's not talking anymore. He went to apologize to Hermione."

I snorted at Potter's naivety and prepared to reply as a scream rang from the teeming students behind us. Oh for the love of Salazaar! Weasley had apparently missed Hermione entirely and had instead decided to jump Fleur.

The 'lovebirds' were down in a whir of black robe and blue suit and a crowd had gathered around them. I snickered as I saw Professor Snape break through the crowd to drag Weasley up by his ear. Ah, but being boxed by his ears was always such a good look for the red headed prat. Somehow he had gotten Fleur's light blue hat in one hand, which he clutched tightly like some misshapen trophy. As Snape began hissing into Weasley's ear, a crash was heard and the covered refreshment tables began toppling one by one. Apparently someone had decided one linked tablecloth would be suitable for _all_ the tables. I snickered as McGonagall descended on a very messy Crabbe standing knee deep in cakes and sandwiches, the table cloth still tucked into his pants.

Typical. This little party had turned out just as I'd expected.

I turned my back to the uproar, and stalked through the courtyard willing my robes to flair behind me dismissively. Not that I was trying to look imposing for Potter, or anything. Besides, he would clearly not be watching me. Undoubtedly, he would be too busy helping his idiotic friend fend off the righteous anger of the Professors.

The grass beneath me was not the soft, bright shoots of spring, but the upright healthy green of new summer. This grass bent, but didn't snap when trampled. I liked this time of year. Truthfully, I liked this time of day as well, while still bright enough to see clearly, there was a slow feeling of watchful peace which lingered in the air as the sun began to set. Now that I was away from the crowds, I could hear a faint crinkling in a pocket of my robes. With a sigh I pulled my letter out to once again, eyes following the elegant script that flowed across the paper.

_Draco Sweetie,_

_I'm sorry, but I just won't be able to pull myself away from France to pick you up at the Express. You're a big boy now. I'm sure you've learned to apparate by now, what else could they be teaching you in school? _

_Just pop by anytime. It's lovely here near the ocean, oh, and the town I'm in is a charming little place named after a Saint John or some such thing._

_I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding it. You're such a smart boy, no matter what your father says!_

_Kisses!_

_Mommy_

I crumpled the paper in a fist before smoothing it out again remorsefully. It wasn't Mothers fault. It was traitorous to my family name to feel the irritation and loneliness that I was feeling. I was not some toddler left overnight in a strange park by his parents for the first time. I was much older now than the terrified little boy I had been and I didn't need to feel this same fearful panic! I was turning fifteen soon, becoming a man, right?

My steps began to slow as I tried to put the pieces together. It would have been nice to know _where_ Mother was in France and most importantly _where_ I was to meet her. What was I to do after our train pulled into the station?

I shook my head.

It didn't matter anyway. I was a Malfoy. That was enough.

There was a cracking sound and I noticed a glint of some bright thing out of the corner of my eye. Potter stood in the shadows of a tree, watching me, his eyes completely hidden by his shinning glasses.

"Potter. Are you stalking me today?" I spat out while hastily hiding my letter. Why had he followed me?

"Not exactly."

"Not exactly? What is that supposed to mean? Or perhaps you're too tired from dealing with your loser friend to form a coherent thought?"

"What are you plans for the Summer Holiday?" He asked with a small smile as if I hadn't raised several important questions. I blinked at him in confusion.

"What business could it possibly be of yours? You should know not to ask such a personal question of your betters."

"I see." His smiled shifted slightly, becoming that flustered turn up of corners he sometimes gave me. "If you're embarrassed about it, it's okay. I wouldn't judge. I know…with your father being…away, it must be difficult for you."

"Don't think you know anything about me, Scarhead. Run back to your little friends and leave me be." I said dismissively.

"Aren't you staying for the social?" He asked.

"Why on earth would I? Don't be daft."

"Won't you miss the chance to say goodbye to your admirers?"

"The girls can admire me from afar easily enough."

"Oh, but I was speaking of Seamus, or perhaps…Krum?"

Something in my horrified expression caused him to smile and step out of the shadows towards me. The vibrant orange of the sun hit his face, illuminating his vibrant good looks. Wait. Where had that thought come from? Clearly I was tired from the absurdly boring afternoon and my mind was confused. I frowned at the approaching boy.

"I have no desire to spend any more time with the teeming masses of idiots that is our school." I said hastily.

"It has been a strange year. Everyone has been…but, I really think next year will be better. I think things will change." His voice was low and husky.

"Why, will you be dead come fall?" I smiled sweetly. It was easy now that I had a truly sweet thought in my head.

"Maybe if you're very lucky." He replied while laughing and my smile turned to a frown. Why did he never take my threats seriously anymore? Something passed over his face, and his eyes clouded for a moment. He seemed on the verge of saying something to me, but he eyes then flicked abruptly past me towards something behind me.

"Oh! Harry and…young Mr. Malfoy I see. Why I was s'pecting you t'both be at the social. Well now." Hagrid's gruff voice cut in and I turned to give him an equal share of my frown. What on earth? Hagrid's dirty coat was bulging more than usual and his stomach was juggling under the rough material. Was he giving birth? No, I must wipe that image from my mind!

"Hagrid, nice to see you…er…that is, is everything all right?" Harry asked with a concerned look. Hagrid's coat appeared to throb, bulging alarmingly in three places at once and the oafish teacher gave a rumble of alarm as a slender, snakelike arm slipped through the collar of his coat to curl around his neck. What on earth was _that_?

"Well now, nothin' t'see here. I best be on my way." Hagrid gave an abrupt turn and began jogging away. Interesting. I had no idea someone that overweight _could_ jog. The slender, glistening serpentine arm waved at us over his shoulder like some demented version of a scarf and Potter gave a strangled cry for him to wait before following him.

For some reason, I found myself sighing while watching their departing figures. I let my hands smooth the front of my robe, feeling the crinkling of paper in my pocket. Enough sparing with enemies, I should really be finishing packing. I would need to go through my truck again; I could have sworn someone had riffled through my belongings after I'd undone the wards this afternoon. Something had seemed amiss. I hoped one of my many female admirers hadn't decided to steal some personal item, for I would have to deal with that most harshly.

The longed for end of my fourth year was upon me and yet I felt uncertain and confused.

Mother wouldn't be too hard to find, would she? No, no, I thought determinedly, of course not! How big could France possibly be anyway?


	9. Summer Letters

**

* * *

Chapter 7. Summer Letters.**

_

* * *

_

_July 5th  
Potter,  
I found some very interesting photographs hidden in my trunk. The pictures taken by that Colin Creevey at the Yule Ball. I'm sure this rings a bell. I know it had to have been you, though how you managed to sneak into my room is a mystery. I would think the very walls of Slytherin would have conspired to expel such as you from their presence.  
I hope you sufficiently taught that creep a lesson?  
Don't bother writing back.  
Regards,  
Draco Malfoy

* * *

_

**July 5th  
Draco,  
I hope I was able to get the message to Colin. He means well, he can just be a little…scary with his obsession sometimes. The pictures were a peace offering, really.  
Would you consider being friends?  
Harry

* * *

**

_July 10th  
Mother,  
You said you were going waiting for me in a charming town in the south of France, I deduced you meant Saint Jean De Luz? I went to Saint Jean De Luz.  
It is quite a charming town. And yet, you are not to be found! **Other** wizards are spending summer with their parents. Have you forgotten that I am a teenage boy who **does not speak French**? Where are you?  
Love,  
Draco  
P.S. The strawberry tarts are delicious.

* * *

_

**July 20th  
Potter,  
Creevy is what, two feet tall? Scary? Be a man!  
In response to your question: No.  
I am only writing because I have extra time this summer. You are truly not worthy of association. I wanted to make that clear.  
Regards,  
Draco Malfoy

* * *

**

_July 20th  
Draco,  
May I ask why the answer is no?  
Harry

* * *

_

**July 28th  
Dearest Draco,  
I was so terribly happy to get your letter!  
I'm sorry we missed each other, but I'm sure you're having a lovely time exploring and learning on your own as young men love to do! I've gone on a mountain expedition. My new friend, Pierre, is _such_ a dear! He assures me that hiking up pristine ranges will help me reach tranquility. I do _so_ need this now, especially after the horrible ordeals I've been forced to endure.  
I'll see you soon my dearest, sweetest little boy!  
Love,  
Mommy

* * *

**

_July 28th  
Mother,  
Which mountains are you referring to? Your letter was a little vague in that regard.  
I'm still waiting to for you in town, though I have been taking day trips to visit the beaches of Biarritz, I hope I hadn't missed you?  
Recently I've become a bit sunburned and for the last few days have not left my hotel. Alas, I still lack the capacity to tan, unlike Pot-er **others **at school.  
Love,  
Draco  
P.S. Who is Pierre?

* * *

_**August 1st  
Son,  
I have an important task for you to complete. You will be silent and obedient in regards to this matter, as is due me, your Father.  
Find a muggle place called a 'Cyber Café', log into my accounts at ****cybrmte, ****adultliazonz**** and**** pervyhobbitfanciersanonymous**** and print out all correspondence. This is very important, be sure to print out ANY pictures that are sent my way! You wouldn't believe how many people lie about who they really are.  
Disgraceful.  
Azkaban is dreadfully boring now that they took the dementors away and I don't want any of my conquests to think I've abandoned them.  
Do this at once!  
Lucius Malfoy  
P.S. Some of the letters may be for a woman named 'Lucy'; they are for me as well.

* * *

**

_August 1st  
Mr. Lucius Malfoy,  
Correspondence of a most irregular nature has been forwarded to the Ministry of Magic by a Mr. Draco Malfoy. It is my belief that you are currently attempting to misuse the Muggle object known as the 'internet'. I will be meeting with you in Azkaban in one week's time to discuss this situation.  
Sincerely,  
Mr. Arthur Weasley  
Ministry of Magic  
Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office

* * *

_

**August 15th  
Potter,  
In response to your question dated July 20th, it should be obvious, even for you. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor just cannot mix.  
Regards,  
Draco Malfoy

* * *

**

_August 15th  
Draco,  
How can you be sure? You don't know me, not really.  
You have this…**idea** of what I am, of the way the world works.  
What I'm trying to say…  
Is it that maybe you're afraid to give me a chance?  
Harry

* * *

_

**August 16th  
Potter,  
How dare you suggest that I may be afraid! Listen, what are you trying to accomplish here? Because I know what you-  
Listen is this-  
Why are you-****  
If I actually pretend to believe you - to believe that YOU - the _Great Harry Potter_ want to be friends with ME, the most despised boy at Hogwarts, what can I expect to happen?   
Regards,  
Draco Malfoy

* * *

**

_August 16th  
Draco,  
I think that once we get past all of this stupid, childish bickering that we might find we have a lot in common.  
And, you're not despised. Surely you must be aware of this?  
The other houses hold you as one of the saviors of our world. I know they're behavior has been…overwhelming for you.  
I can be someone to talk to, someone who won't judge you.  
Someone who might understand.  
I can be a friend.  
Harry

* * *

_

**August 17th  
Potter,  
Are you _now _insinuating that I have been childish in regards to you?  
I am not fearful or childish!  
I see right through you to your true intent.  
Very well.  
Though I will not agree to be your friend, I will agree to consider you as an acquaintance. One I might talk to once in awhile, as any other mature young man.  
Save your blather about everyone else at school, I know exactly what they're doing! You are just too blind to see the truth.  
It's those ugly glasses you _insist_ on wearing.  
Regards,  
Draco Malfoy

* * *

**

_August 17th  
Draco,  
Acquaintances would be a good start.  
Would you like to meet on the train? We could share a compartment and talk about our summer? We don't have to ride with anyone else, if they annoy you.  
Harry

* * *

_

**August 20th  
Potter,  
I said acquaintance, not chum. Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm like your other little lap dogs. Please note that I've enclosed my preferred brand of hair gel as well as a hairstyle booklet.  
Do _something_ with your hair.  
Regards,  
Draco Malfoy

* * *

**

_August 20th  
Draco,  
I will do my best, though it's not something I'd really paid attention to before. I suppose it makes sense. I've noticed other boys taking extra time to get ready before dates. Ron even buys potions against acne now, though I don't think it matters as his freckles hide it anyway.  
I guess if it attracts that certain someone, it's worth it?  
I look forward to seeing you on the train!  
Harry

* * *

_

**August 25th  
Mother,  
Your last letter stated you were in the mountains and you haven't responded to any of my other queries. I thought you might have meant the Pyrenees.  
I tried to find you, but I'm afraid I became quite lost while hiking. Are you aware that there are rampaging goats that wander those mountains? **

**I was mauled, Mother, mauled by goats! **

**They ate my cloak and would have eaten my robe if I hadn't made a hasty retreat. Apparently I lost consciousness as I fell down half the mountain, but luckily I was found by a local mountain witch who healed me nicely. I only had a few scrapes and abrasions anyway, and she doesn't think I'll have a concussion.  
I'll be heading back to school soon, and I guess I won't see you at all this year.  
I miss you.  
Love,  
Draco  
P.S. We may have to add the witch to our Christmas card list or something, she blathered on and on about me owing her my body and life. For a few measly heals! She should feel honored to have healed a Malfoy!

* * *

**

_August 27th  
Potter,  
Who is the girl that you're considering primping for?  
By the way, taking a bath is not 'extra' nor is brushing ones hair and teeth. Those are occurrences that should happen **every** day.  
Please don't let it be a Weasley. They'll be insufferable.  
Regards,  
Draco Malfoy

* * *

_

**August 27th  
Draco,  
Ah, no, it's not a Weasley.  
And, yes I do bathe and brush every day. Maybe I am somehow showering the muggle way? Care to show me how wizards do it?  
You hadn't mentioned if you'd be able to meet on the train.  
Would you like to meet instead to buy our books together before school? I'll be going in a few days.  
We could meet and maybe have a Butterbeer?  
Harry

* * *

**

_August 28th  
Potter,  
I have a small family matter to take care of, so my books are being bought for me. The Ministry had better get this right! They're taking a week out of my time for this mess! I'm surprised the Red Pimply One hasn't told you, his Dad's knee deep.  
Anyway, I'll see you on the train.  
Maybe.  
Regards,  
Draco Malfoy  
P.S. Don't be silly, get a house elf to help you shower. That's what they're there for!_

_

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_

****

**A/N_  
_**

_Pervy Hobbit Fanciers Anonymous: In recognition of the brilliantly funny 'Very Secret Diaries' by Cassandra Claire. _


	10. Potters Deceitful Fifth Year Plot!

**

* * *

Chapter 10. Potters Deceitful Fifth Year Plot!

* * *

**

The Hogwart's Express rushed forward, carrying terrified first years, harried prefects and returning students excited to be rediscovering friends. Oh. And the Express also carried me, most unwillingly I might add. The only emotion I entertained was anger.

But really now, I have every reason to be angry!

There were people in my compartment! People other than me, myself and I!

Instead, my favorite compartment was taken by Crabbe, Goyle, Zambini and Parkinson. Logic dictated that I retreat and find a quiet, empty car. It would be four against one after all, and two of the occupants had an actual reason to hate me. Luckily those two were the intellectually challenged of the group and probably didn't know they had a logical excuse to rip me limb from limb.

"Oh, your parents took you on Holiday too? Mine just hosted a few parties at home, it was soooo boring." Pansy whined, her voice reaching me as I lounged in the shadows of the corridor outside.

"Yes, you wouldn't believe how tiresome it is, with them around you can't have any fun. We had to do _all_ the tours together. I couldn't pick up anyone the whole summer!" Blaise complained. I frowned at their whining and itched gently at the goat bite on my forearm. When one is in pain, causing pain in others is always the right thing to do!

I wonder if the Slytherin decree for Fifth year is still _Ignore Draco Malfoy_.

No time like the present to find out!

"Oh…you poor, poor babies." I murmured softly, now leaning on the doorway to MY train compartment. The occupants turned and Pansy's piggy nose wrinkled as if a foul wind had entered the room.

I stepped fully into the compartment and plopped down on a seat while undoing my overcoat. I'd handled falling down a mountain and being mauled by goats this summer, it wasn't like a few spoiled underage wizards who'd spent the summer being coddled were going to scare me. They had no idea how lucky they were to have parents who actually _wanted_ to spend time with them after the war we'd been facing. Families had been ripped apart.

And here they sat: clueless. And their attitude! Had I ever had such an undeserved feeling of superiority? No, no, that was impossible. My superiority was never undeserved. The specimens before me were simply weak, pampered fools and it was time to reclaim the position which was mine. A small smile came over my face as I undid the first few buttons on my black silk shirt. I took out my wand.

Four wands were instantly pointed at me.

"Oh, don't mind me." I purred into the tense air. "I've just been too busy to have a decent bath, and now it looks like I'll have loads of time. You don't care, do you?" I flicked my wand, conjuring a floating water basin and a wet, soapy sponge. A thick, fluffy yellow sponge mind you, no duckies or pink hearts for my bathing needs, thank you very much Father!

I continued my monologue to the quiet room.

"I hope you won't mind if I get all wet and soapy in front of you? No, of course not, because I don't exist, right?" I slipped my shirt off and folded it neatly on the seat. Blaise' wand started shaking, and Goyle opened his mouth in confusion letting what looked like a half eaten piece of chocolate frog fall onto his massive chest.

I casually levitated the sponge above Pansy's head and gave my wand a little shake. Droplets fell on her blonde hair and ruffled blouse.

"Oh, _so_ sorry Parkinson." I smirked.

At that, Goyle and Crabbe lunged while Pansy brought her wand up, aiming a hex. Luckily, her spell hit the moving Goyle, who fell down twitching furiously, oh an itching hex, those were always effective! I took a step back. Pansy could be a bit of a nuisance when she wanted; it went hand in hand with being such a bitch.

"What IS going on here?" A high pitched voice asked from the hallway. Drat, that grating voice could only be Granger! I'd rather hoped she'd turned native after spending a summer with her Muggle parents and wouldn't be burdening civilized society anymore with her presence. I turned my head and saw Granger, and that dark haired Ravenclaw, Pajama Patil, frowning in the doorway. They both wore shinny prefect badges. Merlin! They actually made Granger a Prefect? This was what was wrong with Wizarding society today!

"Listen here you Prefects." I began with a condescending glare at Granger. She looked a bit different after the summer, having done something to tame her wild hair. It was about time.

"Malfoy, what were you doing?" She interrupted, quite rudely I might add. Why does everyone assume _I'm_ to blame? Sometimes even when I've taken great care to ensure none could actually pin it on me!

"I was trying to explain Mu-er, _Granger_. They were doing horrible, horrible things to me to force me from my compartment! They even ripped my clothing off! You know how lustful and conniving Slytherins can be and I'm just a helpless innocent trying to get to school. Well, you're Prefects, do something!" I ordered with a grand gesture at the other four Slytherins.

It was not even two minutes later that I sat quietly in my very own car on the train, all to myself.

I'm just that special.

Of course, Granger hadn't believed me, untrusting Gryffindor that she is. But as three Slytherins stood with wands aimed, over their twitching comrade, she had clearly found them to be more at fault than yours truly. Of course, she had seemed quite flustered about the entire situation, I think a half nude Draco Malfoy tends to have that affect on people.

With my compartment liberated from the intruders, I pulled on a school shirt and slipped my tightly woven school robe over my shoulders before sitting down. I had some thinking to do, and hopefully the train ride would give me just the time I needed. Lately, I'd become worried that I was moving away from the ideals that had been drilled into me since my childhood. The thoughts I currently had towards other Slytherins were most troubling. I was beginning to hold them in just as much disdain as I did Mudbloods and Potters.

Did this mean I was no longer actually a true Slytherin or was it a failing in the others? I sat pondering this with a frown on my face as my compartment door slide open. I didn't bother shifting from my sprawled position at the interruption. I could easily manipulate my way out of any situation thrown at me.

"Draco, here you are. Hullo." Potter stood in the doorway beaming at me. He was breathing heavily, which made me wonder if he'd been running. Probably had arrived late due to the Weasleys, they were never on time.

"Did you get lost on the way to the 'Little Saints Room', Potter?" I drawled.

"No, I came to see you. Hermione said that you were, er…"

"Oh, she told you that I had been attacked? That's true, it was a vicious and completely unprovoked attack, but as you can see, I'm doing just fine. _So nice_ to have an enemy concerned about my well being." I let my words drip with malice.

"Er…that's not what she said quite..." He had turned red and was eyeing my clothing. What _was _he thinking? Yes, I'd agreed to be an 'acquaintance' so as not to be thought childish or fearful, but I hadn't really thought Potter would act on such a thing, it was absurd! This was clearly a plot to get something, or perhaps to bring me to some disgrace.

However…if I played along, perhaps I could turn this to my advantage? I eyed him speculatively.

"Don't let me keep you here in the bad part of town." I added just a hint teasing to my voice to keep it from sounding hostile while propping my legs on the seat in front of me.

"What? Oh, but I came to talk about our summers."

"Why on earth would you think I'd want to do that with a Gryffindork like you?" I held my hand out and examined my neatly manicured nails, covertly watching his face.

"Oh…er…I thought maybe…" He stammered. I frowned at his awkwardness and rolled my eyes while giving a discrete twitch with my hand at the open compartment door.

Potter closed the door, but remained in the middle of the compartment, shifting from foot to foot. Did I have to spell it out for him? On the other hand, he _was_ as clueless as ever, turning this to my advantage would be just too easy!

"Sit." I commanded.

He sank to the cushion at end of my row, and I moved my feet to stretch them on the ground to accommodate him.

"I thought were going to be friends now," He said with a frown. How dare he be snippy with me! I sniffed and glared at him icily through the blonde fringe of my hair.

"Look, I said we could be acquaintances, not friends. Plus, you're a Gryffindor acquaintance so it's not like I can let people see us talking to each other."

"But…I mean…none of the Slytherins are speaking to you anyway, who would care? And, other Slytherins are even dating Gryffindors, so it's not like it's that big of a deal to anyone else." He said, sounding surprised.

"Just because they're horny and willing to go slumming doesn't mean I am."

"Slumming?"

"Yes, slumming. Besides, not one Slytherin has been hitting on _you_ now, have they?"

"What? Well, not exactly, no. No other Slytherins really talk to me."

"Exactly. YOU are different from other Gryffindors. It's still very much a crime to consider a relationship with YOU. Think about it, you've put a good portion of their immediate family in jail."

"Perhaps their family shouldn't have been following a psychotic killer like Voldemort!" He growled sounding very much like the Potter I knew so well. I sighed at him.

"Look, Potter, I'm willing to give this non-enemy thing a go, but don't push your luck. It's not like you and I are going to be skipping down the sidewalk hand in hand singing nursery rhymes anytime soon. Or _ever_ for that matter." I shuddered at the image.

"I never imagined us doing those types of things anyway." He replied with a grin.

"Don't lie. I know you fantasize about playing all sorts of games with me to make up for your own depraved childhood." I eyed him through lowered lashes.

"Well, maybe one or two games have crossed my mind." He smiled and fidgeted slightly with his robes before smoothing his hair. It was then that I realized that he had changed over the summer. His face was more mature, and he had lost the baby fat in his cheeks. He also had actually done something different to his hair. He'd chosen a spiky style, with just a few jagged locks running over his forehead.

"You have been using the gel. I approve." I commented.

"You like it?" He blushed and ran his hand through his hair, which messed it up completely.

Maybe there was no hope.

I _then_ noticed that the top of his head was beginning to brush the bottom of the luggage rack.

"You've grown taller." I frowned at him and leaned forward on the seat trying to measure his increased height with my eyes. He sat still as I eyed him and gave me his goofy smile.

"I've grown a few inches."

He'd grown a few inches? How many was a few? I had grown two and a quarter inches, finally, after much agonizing. My voice had also slipped down an octave, but was still smooth and soft, not the deep gravel I was aiming for. Though, on the plus side, unlike Potter, _my _voice had never done that cracking thing. I stood up and motioned for him to join me with an imperious wave.

Oh Merlin.

He had towered over me last year, of course, but I'd hit a growth spurt over the summer and thought for sure things would even out between us. But even with my new height, my head was definitely only about shoulder level. I glared at the offending shoulder and sat down in a huff, my arms crossed in front of my chest. Maybe I should invest in high heels, like Blaise? It was certainly fashionable in the right circles now. No, I decided against it, for it was something Father would wear.

"Don't pout like that Draco. You're not short or anything. You're taller than many guys our age." Potter said as he took a seat beside me.

"I'm shorter than you. This is unacceptable. My father is tall, and I'm a bloody mini-Lucius…minus being a complete freak, but do I get the height?" I complained, chewing on my lower lip. I glanced at Potter and saw that his eyes were slightly unfocused as he watched me worry at my bottom lip. He was probably thinking about my freak of a father. I stopped chewing and flicked my tongue out to moisten my lips to keep myself from displaying any more signs of weakness.

He took a shaky breath and shook his head before replying. "Yes…umm…er…your father. You know, I heard something about you sending some interesting letters to the ministry; if I didn't know better I'd say you were becoming a good guy."

"Ha! Don't get your hopes up! I'll stand against all of you goody-goodies. But my father…" I closed my mouth before I could say more. Just how much of an acquaintance was Potter to be? But, he was looking at me so expectantly from mere inches away.

"Your father?" He asked softly.

"He's always been a prick. The idiot. If I can keep him locked up longer, my quality of life drastically improves." I glared at him, quickly adding, "Anyway, why are you here, lording your height advantage over me instead of hanging around with your loser friends?"

"Well, I did see Hermione. But…I think she's looking for Ron. I didn't want to get in the way. Ever since the Yule Ball, when she cried in Ron's arms they've been really sweet to each other. Or they've been fighting."

"Sweet? Bleah. Is this your revenge for all of my witty comments about your scar in first year? You're making me queasy."

"Why do you think I'm here instead of with them?" Potter grinned.

"Because you know Slytherins are truly superior. And you've been longing to change houses since the first day," I said with a roguish twitch to my eyebrows.

"That must be it."

"Of course it is! I'm always right."

"Hmmm. You know, it's funny, but I almost was put in Slytherin." He was still grinning and I could now feel the heat from his body like a warm line going from my arm to my thigh. When had he gotten so close? I shifted in my seat.

"I find that hard to believe."

"No, it's true. I had to beg the sorting hat not to be put in Slytherin."

"Are you mad? Why would anyone not want to be put in what is clearly the superior house?"

"Well, you see, I'd met this soon-to-be Slytherin boy with blonde hair who had insulted pretty much everyone who had ever been nice to me."

"Insulted? We both know I merely spoke the truth." I smirked.

Potter laughed. "I thought you were a rude snob."

"I believe you mean 'witty' snob, and not so much snob as aware of my rightful position."

"Ah, yes that, again, must be it." Potter smiled as he spoke. This was the second time he'd agreed with me in that teasing way. Was he being sarcastic? No, no, not possible.

Potter yawned loudly and stretched in his seat.

"What? Doesn't your muggle family let you sleep?" I raised an eyebrow at him as he finished stretching. He let his arms drop to rest of the back of the seat.

"I don't live with them anymore. I live with my God Father now."

"You have a God Father? Who'd have you? Ooh! It's Hagrid, isn't it? You've been living in his hut in the forest snogging trees and milking chickens, haven't you?"

"Though that does sound fun, no, it's not Hagrid. It's Sirius Black."

I frowned at him. When on earth had that happened? Surely I would have been told about this development, being part of a well connected wizarding family as I was. It was absurd that I didn't know, for Black was distantly related! I pondered this while relaxing back into the seat, feeling the warm weight of Potters arm draped across my shoulders. The soft fold of his robe brushed the sensitive skin on the back of my neck and I shivered slightly while trying to remember if anyone had alerted me of this new incident. Lately it seemed that no one told me anything.

I finally shook my head at Potter. "Whatever. I still think you've really been living with Hagrid, you're sort of starting to look like him you know. If I squint."

Potter laughed softly and his fingers lightly rubbed my shoulder. I thought about letting him know that he was intruding on my personal space, but decided against it. This was Potter, the innocent one; he'd probably blush and stammer and be embarrassed for a good twenty minutes. That would be _much_ too annoying.

I realized, as we pulled into Hogwarts, that I was actually having a good time. Even sitting in silence and watching the scenery flash by had been sort of fun because I hadn't been alone. Of course, I reminded myself, this was all part of my fiendish plot to discover Potter's fiendish plot so I might as well let myself act the part. My arm gave another twinge and I knew I'd need to charm it against pain again shortly, as soon as I was able to get some time alone.

Besides, the arm around my shoulders felt warm and solid. I knew Gryffindors were a touchy feely people, but I hadn't known that Potter would be so friendly even with someone like me. Someone he was trying to manipulate for some ill gain. But poor Potter, his plan would not succeed! I would not show fear.

I'll go along with his little touchy feely friend game for now, and in time HE'LL be begging ME for mercy!

Just like in all my fantasies.

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**A/N**

Thank you for the reviews! Sometimes I can't think of anything witty to say in response and writers like me can be quite a shy bunch sometimes. I really do appreciate every single comment! If I could, I'd print them out and hang them around my room to look at every day.

Unfortunately, my cats have formed an unholy alliance with my bunny and paper is not long for this world if it appears in my house (paper is his candy). Thus, I content myself with reading them online and thinking happy thoughts for you kind people!


	11. Bites and Kisses

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****Chapter 11. Bites and Kisses.**

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"Now, now," I purred, "No crying. I hope you won't miss my sexy ass _too_ much while I'm gone." There was no reaction from the students in the Slytherin common room. How frustrating! It had been several weeks since the beginning of school and I had not only failed to reveal Potter's conniving plot, but I hadn't managed to ruffle any feathers after that fun jaunt on the train. So much for this year being so very different!

I scanned the room with dissatisfaction, finding only one face turned in my direction. Theodore Nott. He was sitting in a darkened corner, once again alone, once again looking irritated. I swear the boy never smiles. He had raised his head from his book to glance at me with one brown eyebrow raised in a superior manner. How dare he steal my patented look of disdain? With a scowl at his impertinence, I turned, and stepped through the doorway into the cooler air of the Slytherin labyrinth. The stone walls engulfed me in their clammy grip and goose bumps began to stand on my skin. I plucked irritably at my sleeve again, feeling the same familiar itch beginning. I'd have to renew the spell to keep the pain down soon. It was beginning to worry me that it was taking so long to heal, for the sore remained the same size and color since I'd first received it. It was almost as if I'd been hexed without knowing it. I had force myself to stop poking at it as I walked.

Though dusk was beginning, it wasn't time for students to be in bed so there were few other stranglers about as I meandered through Hogwarts. Of course, in my opinion, regulations weren't really meant for _me _anyway, as I'm clearly above the rules they foist on less worthy students.

My feet tread familiar places and I found myself at the bridge connecting the towers. Leaning against the railing I looked down to the ground below, feeling the slight wind stir around me. The sound of shuffling feet came from below me, and a figure stepped into view, dark head bent over a small sheet of paper. I knew _that_ head. Potter had obviously tried to style his hair again, but he'd missed one section completely and he had a rumpled tuft of hair sticking straight up. He looked up from his paper and glanced around as if looking for something before turning back to the small parchment in his hand again. I snickered when he scratched his head as if in confusion. He was so clueless! He'd probably forgotten his common room password. At my laugh he looked up and saw me. He waved quickly at me before disappearing into the stairway. I couldn't determine his facial expression due to distance, but he was probably giving me that silly smile of his. My nice quiet night was about to be disturbed again!

"Draco!" A voice broke through the air, and I heard the sound of quick footsteps on stone.

"What do you want?" I snarled without thinking and then inwardly berated myself. How was I to finagle the secret of his plot if I wasn't pretending adequately? I knew we were supposed to be 'acquaintances', but it was such a hard thing to remember when I was near such an annoyance!

"Hello to you too. Having a nice night?" His voice sounded out of breath, but I caught a definite note of teasing.

"No. It's windy and they served kidney pie at dinner." I replied testily while turning from him to stare out into the dark expanse again. I eyed the ledge below, wondering if it was large enough for a person to sit. If so, it would be a perfect place from which to unleash dark spells on certain offensive Gryffindors. I would have to remember this spot.

"You aren't here because…you aren't thinking of…jumping?" He asked softly, which caused me to glance at his flushed face in surprise. The darkness around us had turned his green eyes to an engulfing black, which was rather eerie.

"Don't be so dense, Potter. I was simply measuring the distance to be covered if you were to take a most _unfortunate_ plummet to the ground."

"If you think you can actually make that happen, I wish you luck." He said with a smile, no trace of anger at my threat in his voice. Oh. That's right, _You Know Who_ had been trying to kill Potter for years and failed miserably, so of course it would be expected that I would fail as well. Truthfully, a dead Potter was of no use for me anyway, for then who would I torture? I would be as likely to kill myself as the annoying git!

"Why would you think that anyway, Potter? That I'd kill myself?" I asked with honest puzzlement in my voice.

"Your eyes," He replied, leaning against the rail beside me, "They look sad. Usually they're an angry grey storm or a cool sky but at the end of last year they started looking dull."

"My eyes are never dull looking!"

"Not usually and not now. But sometimes your entire face just draws into itself. It's even worse this year. I had thought that things would be better by now." As he said this, he frowned over the railing into the darkness beneath us, his profile standing in straight white relief against the night. Why had he sounded wistful like that? I tried to study his familiar features, following the curve of his cheek, past the straight line of his nose to his lips. I felt a clenching in my chest and something dry in my throat, so I took a step away from him.

"What? Where did you get that?" Potter cut in suddenly, looking down at my right arm. The sleeve had momentarily rolled up, revealing that dratted goat bite, which appeared very red in the darkness.

"That's nothing," I said hastily, pulling my robe down to cover it again.

"No, really, what happened? Why didn't Madam Pomfrey heal it? Did you have a broom accident?"

"Potter, you're getting on my nerves."

"But, you should get this looked at if you don't know what happened." He sounded worried.

"I said it's nothing." I replied testily.

"But-"

"Potter, I'm not as clueless as you are, I know exactly what happened." I muttered as he pulled my arm forward to fully expose the raw looking bite and his forehead wrinkled in a concerned frown. I sighed.

"A goat bit me."

"_What_?"

"That hideous mountain witch refused to heal it too! Pretended that I'd been taunting her precious pet. Goats as a species should be wiped from the earth," I said huffily while still attempting to extract my arm. He blinked at me behind his round glasses.

"But…when? When would a goat have bitten you? Does Hagrid even have any goats?"

"It wasn't at school. I had a few incidents that didn't work out quite as planned this summer," I replied, my voice beginning to sound strained.

"But…if it was in the summer, shouldn't it be healed by now or at least not so…sore looking?" His finger drew a gentle circle around the tender spot and I shivered in response, finally managing to wretch my arm free.

"Yes one would think so, but it won't heal. That witch was a card short of a deck, I tell you! Completely unhinged. She kept blathering on about owning me just because she helped me after I fell down that stupid mountain."

"You fell down a mountain?" He shouted, grabbing me roughly by my shoulders and giving me a shake, "We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey."

"No."

"But you have a wound that won't heal! This is serious, we're going NOW!"

"Potter, stop! Hey! Let me go! You idiot! I am not telling her that I was bitten by a goat!" I shouted as I was led away, this acquaintance thing wasn't working out as I had planned at all!

An hour later my patience was exhausted and I scowled at Madame Pomfrey and Potter equally. Though she had now finished torturing me with potions and those annoying 'tsk' noises, she was still blathering on in her high pitched voice. She was like some persistent whining insect that kept circling around my head. You could swat at it, but it always came back. She seemed most stirred up about possible infections. Whatever. We're wizards; we eat silly little things like that for breakfast!

I had been right in my guess about the wound not healing correctly due to interference. The sore on my arm had been spelled to prevent healing. I should have known! That old mountain witch was obviously jealous of my good breeding, and was upset that such a fine specimen had slipped through her fingers. It was her stupid pet goat's fault anyway that I'd been bitten. After my traumatic run in with the mountain goats, I was rather on edge regarding all such creatures. His beady little eyes had made his intentions clear, and I hadn't been surprised when he'd slimed my pants without a _by your leave_. Next time I wasn't just going to try to teach her stupid pet goat to swim; there'd be a whole goat barbecue going on!

I'd have to research some recipes for cooking goat, for who knew how tough that type of meat could be! Maybe a nice white wine sauce?

"And, be sure to rest often for the next few days, Mr. Malfoy. I can't believe the amount of toxin I found in your blood! To have been covering the symptom without addressing the cause was most unwise and I feel-"

"Look, I'm fine," I said coldly while trying to stand. It was hard because the floor was made of gelatin. Stupid gelatin floor. Pomfrey had probably done that on purpose because she liked me helpless like all the other good little students. Well, she had picked on the wrong student for that!

"But Draco, you're still swaying a bit," said a black haired boy standing next to me. Oh, that's right, he's Harry Potter. He's _special._

"I don't listen to the likes of you." To emphasize my point I jabbed my figure into the black square that was his chest, unfortunately he did that fluid water thing he'd been doing for awhile now. It had started after they'd made me drink a very tart tasting orange potion. Instead of thumping him in the chest, somehow, his face got in the way. My finger hit his glasses, which went flying and then I sunk into the soft flesh of his eye. The annoying _Boy Who Lived _(like that's any big accomplishment) stepped back with a cry and his hand went to his eye. I turned away in triumph. That'd teach him to put his face where his chest was!

"Oh my, well at least his personality has returned. Perhaps he should stay overnight for observation?" Madame Pomfrey said in a disapproving tone.

"I think not!" I replied angrily. What exactly did this lecherous old woman want to observe? "Do you know who my father is? I demand to go back to my rooms at once!" Would threatening others with my father's wrath have the same effect now that he was in prison?

The witch flushed and made a sound like a strangled chicken in the back of her throat. "Perhaps he is well enough to go back to his room."

I gave her an imperious nod and she sighed quietly before turning to the black haired boy across from me. "Now, Mr. Potter, the side effects should be washed from his bloodstream as he sleeps tonight, but he really should rest. I know it's a bit out of your way, but it would be wonderful if you could escort him back to his room." Before she could change her mind about keeping me locked overnight in such drab surroundings with a lewd older woman like her, I briskly headed for the door.

Oddly enough, the door apparently didn't like the fact that I was trying to walk through it for though I was positioned to strut past easily, my shoulder struck the door frame. I glared at the offending piece of wood in affront. So, it wanted to play that game did it? Perhaps a little fire would teach it not to move while a Malfoy walked through! I reached down for my wand, but came up empty. Oh, that's right. Potter had taken my wand after I'd tried to hex Pomfrey when her back was turned. I don't know why he did that. It's not as if she would have known I'd been the one to hex her! Like so many before her, she'd have simply thought she ate something that gave her a little…indigestion. I'd done that spell dozens of times without it ever backfiring, but did Potter know that? No. Because he was an inadequate and inept wizard who stole others wands!

Wanting to be away from them both, I kept one hand on the door frame lest it should try moving again and managed to make it through. The door squeaked shut behind me and I relaxed slightly. I really do hate anything related to sick people.

A hand landed on my arm. "She said we'd better get back to our rooms. Are you still dizzy?" Drat! Potter had followed me.

"I'm not. And I wasn't then. What are you trying to pull here Potter?"

"Oookay," He said in a soft voice, as if speaking to a child or someone very, very stupid. This caused my glare up at him to intensify. "Just lean on my arm and we'll get you back to your room. If you remember the password. We could ask another Slytherin, but I don't think that would be a good idea. Not with you vulnerable like this." A strong arm looped around my shoulders and a crafty thought came to me as I was pulled into his chest. My wand would be in my hand soon enough!

"Maybe I should take you back to Gryffindor? My bed is probably large enough for two. No, no, that's a bad idea. Plus, there is Seamus. That'd be even worse than letting the Slytherins have you. Hmm…"

While Potter mumbled irrationally to himself, I eyed his robe covertly. Where oh where would he have put my wand? I didn't see anything sticking out at an odd angle, well, except for his hair. _Wait a second_.

"Did you just say I was vulnerable?"

"Ummm…"

"Prat."

"Well, you're really wobbly and not making any sense, really."

"I'm fine." I tried to give a commanding wave of my hand, but unfortunately his chest was in the way. I let my hand rest there, and felt the taunt muscles moving slightly under his shirt. I gave the chest an experimental squeeze, but there was no wand to be had there. He also apparently had very little body fat. He better not think he was in better shape than me!

"What were you thinking?" He said then, his words causing the chest underneath my hand to vibrate in an interesting way. I felt a breath of warm air as he pressed his forehead against mine, his green eyes searching.

"Why didn't you get Madame Pomfrey to look at this the first day?" He asked.

I looked down, away from the searching eyes, away from the face so near my own. I could barely make out the white of my hand, slim against his chest, and I flexed my fingers letting the fabric of his shirt slip through, feeling the heat of his body warm the fabric and my own hand. His heart was beating steadily and loudly. We were so close that I could almost feel every line of his body through our clothing.

"Do you want to die?" Potter asked, his voice sounding odd as if the words were fighting to escape his throat.

"Don't be stupid Potter," I said, "if I'm not alive as a specimen of perfection the world would be worshiping at _your_ inferior feet. That just wouldn't do."

"Then?"

"I…had to take care of this myself, even if I didn't know how."

"Why couldn't you ask for help?" He rubbed his nose against my cheek like a kitten, causing my heart to do a confused double thump. Maybe the potions that had been forced down my throat were having more side effects than I had anticipated?

"It's not what you think. I'm not some pathetic person who can't take care of himself. I would have fixed it. I just can't trust anyone else."

"You can trust me."

"_You_?" I retorted. "I can trust you least of all."

"You can. Even as your enemy I was always there. Just like you were always there with a smirk and an insult for me." He said, eerily echoing my own thoughts.

"Potter…why are you saying this?"

"But…don't you know? Of course not," He whispered softly. He nuzzled the side of my cheek again and then his mouth moved hotly across my face. There was a feather light touch against my mouth. Soft. A brush of soft skin against skin as his mouth pressed against mine and he kissed me.

His lips rubbed against my mouth, slowly, before I felt a flicker of something wet and hot. A strangled sound rose in my throat and he pulled back, looking down at me with flushed cheeks, his eyes shinning and alive. His hand reached for my face, but I jerked back and he let it fall harmlessly away. He gave a small sigh and I opened my mouth to say something, _anything_, but nothing came out.

"Are you alright? We should get you back to your room," Potter said softly. As my vocal cords were not working, I glared at him in response. He reached into his robe and pulled out an ugly, tattered cloak. Even feeling as confused as I was, I wrinkled my nose in disgust. He really had no taste in clothing at all!

"Here, pull this over your head," he said trying to cover me with the fashion faux pas. It had patches, ugly mismatched patches!

"No," I snapped in response. "How do I know where that thing has been? It looks like something you dug out of Weasley's rejects." Ah, victory! My vocal cords were now obeying me again!

"Look, just put it on and you'll be home soon."

"And away from you?"

A sigh.

"Yes, away from me."

"Okay, okay, but don't try anything while I'm under there. I'm watching you, Potter."


	12. There must be some mistake!

**A/N**

**I'd like to thank Cimmerian Sorceress for volunteering to be my beta! It's been great working with her! I'll try not to torture her…too much. ;)**

**Hopefully this'll make chapter updating faster!**

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**Chapter 12.There must be some mistake!**

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The next morning, I sat up in bed and groaned. My head was pounding and my legs felt decidedly shaky. It was reminiscent of the time I'd gotten into father's stash of fire whiskey. I'd been found by the house elves hours later, upside down in late grandfather Abraxas' umbrella stand. Dear Grandpapa hadn't been a great believer in cleanliness (which explained his death-by-dragon-pox), and as Malfoys respected family tradition above all else, my parents had left the stand just as they had inherited it: disgustingly filthy. It had taken four wearying hours for the servants to get all the assorted gook off me. 

As I slowly rolled off the bed, the events of the night before were pushed to the front of my mind. Potter had taken me to get healed, the nosy annoyance that he was. And then…

And then, things had gotten strange.

Potter had been babbling about being trustworthy and...

He had kissed me.

No!

There must be some mistake! In the first place, I would be the one to initiate any kissing!

To make matters worse, it had been a nice kiss.

Again, there must be some mistake!

Potter must have orchestrated this, as part of his devious plot against me. Perhaps this had been 'the plan' all along? Kissing me and then telling everyone in school? What was he saying about that horrible event? In all likelihood, he was probably having a good laugh with all his Gryffindor buddies at my expense, while I sat here doing nothing! I stood quickly and was ready in less than thirty minutes (which was rather a record for me) and was soon on my way to the Great Hall. I was in such a hurry that my hair was still wet and small drops of water were running under my robe to pool at the base of my spine.

As luck would have it, (if seeing that git could ever be considered _lucky_) the Golden Boy was loitering outside the Great Hall, as if he were waiting for someone. Probably his two little lap dogs!

"Potter!" I shouted, pushing my way through the students daring to block my path. This led to the unfortunate incident of two Ravenclaw girls being forced into a rather compromising position in my wake. It wasn't _my_ fault that they were now on second base territory with each other; it was their fault for standing there with looks of fear on their bookworm faces instead of scampering out of my way! The Gryffindor smiled at my approach; therefore I scowled. He was nervous. It was obvious for he was shifting slightly from foot to foot, which always signified nervousness or confusion in him. He does this particular move a lot during potions.

"Draco, I see you're feeling better," he said with a warm smile. I could see that his lips were trembling. He was _very_ nervous. Just what exactly had he told everyone?

"Save it, boy wonder. I have something to say."

"Okay."

"Listen, we tripped, you got that? No one did _anything_ to anyone else. We just tripped due to your oversized Muggle shoes and I accidentally caught you."

He gave a tight lipped smile and pushed his glasses firmly onto his nose. "With your mouth?"

"Shut up! Don't say that! I said nothing happened!"

"Nothing?"

"Yes, nothing happened! There was no touching, no comforting words and no kissing!"

"My words were comforting?"

"Hey Potter, are you listening to me?" I hissed, "I said we didn't do it, you idiot! I didn't lose my first kiss to a guy like you!"

"I was your first kiss?"

"Listen you," I began before realizing exactly where we were: in the doorway to the Great Hall at breakfast. I gave a covert glance around while heat rushed to my face. It didn't look like anyone was listening, but this was not the appropriate place to be having this conversation. I closed my mouth with a snap and snaked out an arm to grab Potter's neck tie between my fingers. With a tug at his leash, I turned and began to walk away, pulling the bane of my existence behind me by his neck.

"Draco, umm…this is not _quite_ how I envisioned this conversation."

"Shut it," I snapped as I began to descend into the dungeons, dragging Potter behind me. There was a slight ringing in my ears and my skin felt prickly. Maybe I could lead the idiot by his tie into the lake? He'd probably follow meekly behind. I could see the headlines now: 'Double Suicide of Hero and Sexy Pureblood, Draco Malfoy!' I scowled at the floor again, not even knowing where I was going or what I was supposed to do next.

"Draco, here." Potter's voice came from behind me and I was pulled back into an old classroom. It was musty and the windows were shrouded with some sort of sticky looking film. There were empty bottles piled up against one wall in a dusty pyramid. The other boy shut the door behind us and I hastily dropped his tie, not wanting the inferior fabric to dirty my fingers anymore.

"Okay, we're alone now. No one can hear us. No one can judge you," he said in a calm voice, as if he were talking to a child. I glared at his shoulder and my mouth remained closed. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of me talking to him! He casually leaned back against the door, blocking my potential exit and crossed his arms across his chest. I noticed that his robe was hanging askew again, but then again I'd been the cause of _that_. He sighed into the dusty air. I hated it when he sighed like that! I grabbed my wand and muttered under my breath to silence the room.

"_Now_ no one can hear. You really are no kind of a wizard at all!"

"Welcome back, Draco."

I flicked a glance up at his face and saw that he was giving me a small smile but something was off with his expression. His eyebrows were drawn tightly down in an unhappy line.

"How is your nice little plan going, Potter?" I hissed. "Did you and the other Griffs have a good laugh at my expense?"

"I knew you'd freak out if you remembered."

"Of course, I remembered! You don't forget your firs- anyway, _this_ is not freaking out. _This_ is the appropriate reaction to such a horrible turn of events!"

"It was horrible?" He looked sad at this and I realized I had just lied. It hadn't been horrible. Confusing, and embarrassing beyond words, but the actual event hadn't been…horrible. Well, aside from being forced to chug down such nasty liquids in the hospital wing. The fact that I couldn't agree with myself about hating the kiss caused my frown to deepen.

"Save the puppy dog look for someone who believes it, Potter." I leaned towards him, now standing menacingly inches away from him. "I know you've been laughing it up with your dorky friends."

"I didn't tell anyone," he stated.

"Right. And I should believe you because we're _such great _friends, after all."

"I didn't tell anyone," he growled. "You know me. Look at me and think!"

My nostrils flared slightly at his offensive tone, but I dutifully looked at him. His mouth was in a thin, frustrated looking line and his eyes were narrowed. His expression was similar to that of the boy I knew in first year, so long ago. That boy had been so quiet and weak looking, but when angered he would not back down.

I knew that look so well, which meant he _wasn't_ lying.

He hadn't told anyone? He really hadn't been laughing at me? I felt my features take on an uncertain look as I tried to process this new information.

"They're laughing, at least, if anyone heard what _I_ said," I said quietly. How loud had I been during that stupid scene in the hall? Why did Potter have the power to make me so angry? I had been trained to hold my emotions in check, and now look at me!

"Are you sure? I doubt anyone heard anything, but if they did, they'd just be jealous of my good fortune," he said quietly with a small twitch to the corner of his mouth. It was rather endearing when he tried so hard not to smile. I blinked at him, my anger and confusion still tumbling through me. He was joking at a time like this?

"Maybe the girls," I said dismissively.

"And Seamus." He grinned.

"Something is seriously wrong with you Potter," I replied, but my voice lacked the anger it needed to be a true insult.

"I think there is," he quipped back.

"Anyway," I said quickly, slightly unnerved by his agreement, "let's agree that the _thing_ that happened was an accident and won't be happening again, right?"

"You mean you don't want to be my acquaintance anymore, Draco?" he asked with a strange tone to his voice. It wasn't teasing, in fact, if I hadn't known better I would have thought his voice contained a hint of sadness.

"Acquaintances don't do that! I know you're just trying to irritate me, but let's just agree to forget about this, okay?" He didn't reply for a moment, but then gave a small shrug of agreement. I felt my body slump slightly in relief and the muscles in my face relaxed. Finally, he had seen my point of view and we both could ignore what had happened! I glanced at him, noticing that he hadn't fixed his robe yet, which was hanging off one shoulder messily. I had to fight the urge to adjust his appearance as I truly detest untidy clothing.

"Fix yourself," I said, raking him with my eyes.

He chuckled and began to straighten his clothing. "Oh! How is your arm?"

I sighed, but dutifully pulled up the sleeve to reveal a smooth white arm with only a slight circular blush as remnant of the wound. I was almost glad Potter had dragged me to get it fixed; it would be nice to not have to deal with it anymore.

"It's fine, though it would have been fine anyway without your interference."

"Is it just the surface that's healed?" he asked as he laid a gentle hand on the pink area. His fingers tentatively moved in a circular motion. It felt good.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I asked as he moved the massage to my hand, running sure fingers along the pad and stretching each finger gently in place before moving on to the next digit.

"I've…ah…well, my godfather gave me a…book and one section dealt with massage," he said quietly, a red tinge appearing on his ears.

"Well, it is good to have a career to fall back on after your attempts at being the Mudblood's house husband fizzle out."

"And you don't think Ron would mind?" For some reason he had found my comment to be amusing. I must be losing my touch.

"Hardly, he'd join in. I see the way he looks at you. Unlike _you_, I notice that type of thing." I smirked.

We didn't say anything more, as it was now time for class. But there was a peace that hadn't been there before. I was glad it was over. I had made myself perfectly clear and there would be no more kissing. And…Potter hadn't told anyone. Wouldn't this have been the perfect opportunity to humiliate me? I don't think I'll ever _truly_ understand the dark recesses of the illogical Gryffindor mind.

The day passed quickly, truthfully _far too_ quickly for someone waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I was surprised that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. No one spoke to me, not even that Finnigan (for which I was truly grateful) and I managed to pass the hours without attacking anyone. I only thought of administering the killing curse two times, which was unusual for me, and one of those urges was directed at Longbottom during Potions so that didn't quite count. There's really no need to hex him anyway, for it's just a matter of time before he kills himself by actually trying to drink one of the deathtraps he brews.

As I slipped into bed that night and stared into the darkness above me, I couldn't help but smile. I probably should be worried about the kiss leaking out, for Potter was horrible at keeping secrets, but I was strangely content as sleep began to steal over me.

Dreamless sleep, here I come!


	13. I've been hexed!

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****Chapter 13. I've been hexed!**

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"Aaaah!"

I sat up in bed with the hoarse scream still lingering in the air, my sheets a tangled mess around my legs. Images from the dream were flashing through my mind and I twitched involuntarily. It had started out pleasantly with a warm body pressed against my own. There had been kissing, sucking and hands roving everywhere, but making out with another guy was not supposed to be a 'pleasant' dream! What was wrong with me? Why had I dreamed about snogging a guy? And there was no mistaking that it had been a guy—he had been a muscular, dark haired man with a strong back and _truly_ talented fingers.

I clutched at the sheet in front of me convulsively as the flush of heat on my skin was replaced by cooling sweat. The dream had felt so _real_. With a start I looked down at my body and winced, for I would have to clean my sheets now. This was only supposed to happen when I thought about girls! Being gay was okay for other people, of course, but not if it was me, for I have a special destiny laid before me. After all, I am supposed to father an army of mini-Dracos with the appropriate woman!

"Oh no, no, no," I moaned, my head in my hands.

I would have to deal with this new problem logically and in a mature fashion. And, after a shower, and a letter to Mother, I did just that by going to see Professor Snape. I had not only missed his class, but I had done so without making excuses. The shower had taken a bit longer than I'd anticipated as I'd felt the need to be very…thorough. Snape was not one to forgive absences, and I might have to grovel a bit, especially as there wouldn't be any Gryffindors around to distract him. He did like to pretend to play favorites.

The other reason I was now standing in front of the bowed head of my greasy haired mentor was that Professor Snape (or Severus as I sometimes called him in my head) was the closest thing I had to a parental figure at the moment. Surely he could help me with this problem?

"Professor?" I said for the fifth time, this time giving my voice just a hint of whine. At the tone, his shoulders gave a jerk and he glanced up from the papers he was grading. There was barely any light in his dungeon of an office, for he liked it dark and clammy, like a cave. Must be some kind of bat like nesting instinct.

"Mr. Malfoy. Are you under the impression that my morning Potions class begins at half past one in the afternoon?" he asked in that sardonic voice of his, the words rolling with just the right amount of malice.

"I'm sorry Professor, you are correct. I will do whatever I can to make up this missed time. I was unavoidably detained."

"I don't believe that is any concern of mine, Mr. Malfoy. You are responsible for attending class regardless of any _personal_ issues." Only Severus could make the word 'personal' sound like a dirty word.

"Sir, I've been having unusual dreams." At my statement, he looked up with a sidelong glare from his piercing, dark eyes, the rest of his face remaining immobile.

"Prophetic dreams are the concern of…Professor Trelawney…she will undoubtedly be overjoyed to help you interpret such an issue." Disdain dripped from his voice at her name and I sighed inwardly in admiration of his skill.

"But Sev-Professor Snape, I need your help. I think I've been poisoned or perhaps hexed or am being controlled. It's the only reason I would have had that horrible dream. Please Sir, you don't understand, I had a…" I paused and put both hands on his desk as I leaned over him, which caused the papers on his desk to slide together messily. His dark eyebrow quirked in irritation, but I continued, determined to get the horrible situation dealt with. "I had an erotic dream about another man," I whispered fiercely, trying to get him to understand my desperation at such an atrocious state of affairs.

"Please do not presume that your…sexual preferences…are any concern of mine either. I believe this conversation is over." He pulled at the section of papers trapped under my hands with annoyance.

"Sir, you don't understand! I must have been slipped a potion before I went to bed. There _are_ potions that could have caused such a defect?"

His dark, greasy, shoulder length hair swayed as he shook his head, and I leaned forward expectantly for his reply. "Mr. Malfoy," he began in a dry voice, "please do not insult my intelligence. I am quite aware of your predisposition regarding sexual matters." He sighed and began massaging that vexed furrow he got between his forehead with one slim finger as he continued, "And for that matter so is the majority of school. I really don't understand your motivation by pretending to have only now realized this fact." My face had started turning warm at his words. He actually thought I was a poof? No!

"Professor, no, there is no possibility of that. I'm a Malfoy, we just don't do that!"

He stepped from behind his desk and advanced on me. "Please do not continue playing the idiot, it doesn't suit you. Need I mention your father and his affinity for fictional characters?" He sighed down at me, his features softening slightly at my visible distress. "I would hope you wouldn't allow this to cause your grades to suffer. You are actually poised to present a threat to Miss Granger this year. I've been pleased with your progress."

I nodded mutely and he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I do not understand why you seem so startled by this conversation. You're related to the Blacks. You as well as I know exactly what kind of people tend to populate _that_ family tree." My mind worked slowly through his comments and then I remembered something Potter had said on the train.

"Sir," I said as I was forcefully shooed towards the door, "Were you aware that Sirius Black was Potter's godfather and current guardian? I mean, really, unbelievable! Didn't the man get his parents killed or something like that? Potter forgives anything!"

"Sirius…is Potter's guardian now? Neither Headmaster Dumbledore nor Professor McGonagall had mentioned this information." Professor Snape's eyes hooded.

"Yes, that's what I just said, Sir," I said with irritation in my voice. He was acting strangely, with half closed eyes and a small smile. The look on his face was really kind of creepy, as some people just aren't meant to smile like that.

"Hmm…Sirius acting as a guardian. How interesting..."

Moments later left me glaring at the door which had been closed rudely on my face. What did Severus know anyway? He was old. Thinking that I had a predisposition. How illogical. He'd obviously been spending too long sweating over greasy potions. However, the situation had become much clearer to my keen mind, for if it was not a potion, I was suffering under some sort of spell to cause me to be aroused by a male while dreaming.

I skipped my afternoon classes and spent the night at the library, searching for books that would point me to the hex or curse that was currently controlling my unconscious thoughts. If only I was able to go home, I would have the necessary information at my fingertips! The Malfoy library truly had the best books, and by the best books, I mean the best tomes of evil (yet sexy_) Dark Magic_. All other magic pales in comparison. I'd even managed to finagle my way into the restricted section by causing Longbottom to have an accident involving his toad, Lovegood's robe and a nice amount of _Stewart's Sticky Stuff _I'd purchased in Knockturn Alley. Sadly, Loony hadn't been at all upset by having a chubby Gryffindor and a toad permanently stuck to her thigh. Maybe I was loosing my touch?

That night I had no strange dreams, because I didn't sleep at all. Instead, I spent the evening eating copious amounts of Fizzing Whizbees and Liquorice Wands and reading through dusty book after dusty book. Nothing helped, not even 'Forced Dreams and Premonitions' or 'Mysterious Diseases of the Lower Body'. It just didn't make sense, for even if the dream had been orchestrated, my body should not have reacted! Also, I was missing so many of the symptoms related to mind control or implanted memories!

The following day found me no closer to the truth and an ever increasing sense of despair was beginning to take over. The tiny seed planted by Severus was growing very large indeed and I wondered if it were not a spell at all, but that I might actually be _that_ way. I finally gave in to the hunger pangs by the time dinner rolled around, and realized I'd missed all of my classes again today. My grades would slip and that Mudblood would still be at the top of the class, but at the moment, school standing was the least of my worries. I was feeling shaky from lack of sleep and sugar overload when I appeared in the doorway to the Great Hall. I swayed slightly on my feet while looking toward my table and realized my plate was missing again. Ah, we were back to this, were we? I didn't have the energy to deal with the idiots surrounding me, and with a disgusted look, I turned to go back to my room. I'd hex the lot of them tomorrow.

I wasn't surprised when a dark haired figure caught up and began walking quietly at my side.

"Potter, shouldn't you be foaming at the mouth at the thought of rotting flesh coated in lard and brown ooze, like the rest of your house?" I snapped without looking at him.

"I don't care for Roast Beef, but that's not the point! You know you haven't been to class for two days?"

"True."

"You've been locked in your room too; no one could get in to see you."

"And how would you know _that_ Potter?" I stopped walking and looked at him, my expression questioning.

"Because I tried to visit you, as a concerned friend."

"What the…? But how were you able to get into the Slytherin House at all?"

"I have a spy," he said with that infuriating grin of his plastered on his face.

"That's preposterous. No Slytherin would help a Gryffindor!"

"You'd be surprised at what other students are willing to do. It was a moot point anyway; I couldn't get your door open, not even with Hermione's help."

"I do know quite a few repelling spells." There was a hint of pride in my voice, for I'd outsmarted the nerdlette! I smiled as I reveled in victory and my stomach growled. Potter gave a start and looked at me with concern.

"Oh! You didn't have a chance to eat then. Let's go." He turned and gestured with one hand to the stairway.

"No."

"Draco," he said with an earnest expression, "I _promise_ you'll get tasty food, if you'll just come."

"I think you're confusing the word 'poisoned' with the word 'tasty'," I replied, turning my nose up slightly at his invitation.

In response, he merely gave me look of challenge over his shoulder and walked away. As I am not one to back down, especially not to Potter, I followed. We went up at least six flights of stairs, and must have been near the seventh floor before he apparently found what he was looking for— a picture of some old guy prancing around with some trolls.

This was another thing that needed to be changed about Hogwarts, the decorations were simply atrocious. Rattling knights, psychotic poltergeists and squids just weren't my cup of tea. Potter paced back and forth, muttering quietly under his breath, while I examined the picture. One of the trolls was trying to get _into_ the guy's tutu; it was terrifying and definitely not a sight for delicate teenage eyes!

"This way, Draco," Potter said from behind, and I looked over my shoulder to see him standing before a normal looking castle door. A door I could have sworn hadn't been there before. The room this mysterious door led to turned out to be rather cozy, with a roaring fire in one corner, and colorful decorations which seemed to vie for superiority. (A little too much color, if you asked me.) There was an overstuffed sofa, huge pillows scattered about and a low wooden table in the middle of the room.

"Interesting décor," I said with a sneer while dropping gracefully onto one of the cushions surrounding the table. The cushions were a better bet than the squashed looking sofa which was probably Potter's little_ make-out_ spot. Perish the thought!

"Dobby," he said to the empty room, ignoring my comment. There was a small popping sound and a house elf appeared. I narrowed my eyes at the large eyed creature who was bowing to Potter as he ordered supper. There was something _familiar_ about the creature, but what was it? The ugly eyes, the drooping ears, the folds in its skin, those oversized feet…

"You," I said in a deceptively quiet voice giving the house elf a tight look. His eyes swiveled to me and widened.

"If…if Harry Potter needs nothing more, Dobby feels Dobby should be going now."

"You used to belong to my family! You traitor of a house elf!"

"Mr. Draco Malfoy?"

"Come here, you purple waste of space!"

"Sir, Dobby has many tasks to finish and Dobby cannot stop to talk, no, Dobby cannot!"

"Time for my favorite game," I said in a voice quivering with rage, "I'm sure you remember this _very_ well, I called it 'kick the house elf'. I bet my distance has improved!" I gave a fake lunge, which caused the creature to squeak and disappear from the room with a small 'pop'. Settling back onto my comfortable cushion, I frowned in annoyance. What was Potter's game by bringing that thing here? The pillows shifted as the other boy sat across from me, while trays laden with food appeared. Potter looked at me with an odd expression; it was almost a look of puzzlement.

"Draco, you could at least try to be nice to Dobby. Your Father abused him." Ooh, that look he had given me was not confusion at all. Potter was angry!

"Not just Father!" I smirked before digging in to the soup in front of me. As the first drop touched my tongue I gave a strangled yelp and dropped my spoon with a thud. The soup was boiling hot! That house elf had purposely made my soup too hot!

"Show yourself, house elf! I bet I can break my old record!" I shouted into the quiet room. Duddie, or whatever its name was, didn't make a peep, but I knew he was watching from some dirty house-elf corner. I eyed the tray in front of me carefully. What had he done to the rest of my food? Well, two could play this game, I simply wouldn't eat. I could certainly outsmart a house elf!

Potter took a sip of his soup and smiled appreciatively. This caused my frown to deepen, as the stew looked good, like some sort of potato cream with chives. I hate house elves.

"So, Professor Snape excused you from classes. He said you were sick?" He asked while taking a roll and spreading butter.

"Did he? Then I must be sick."

"You look exhausted."

"I needed some time off. It's no big deal. So what if I didn't leave my room for a few days." I looked longingly at the bread basket and wondered if the house elf had done something to the rolls nearest me.

Potter gave a small laugh. "And yet, your hair is still flawless and your robe is still pressed and draping perfectly."

"Of course." I raised my eyebrow at him in surprise, how could he think that I would let my appearance go to waste over a little thing like a breakdown? Potter smiled and then sat eyeing me, with the spoon raised half way to his mouth.

"You're not going to eat anything, are you?"

"The demented house elf undoubtedly poisoned my food."

He sighed thoughtfully and stood to switch our trays. "I don't think Dobby would do that, but then you may have scared him."

I eyed the tray Potter had set in front of me. The elf would not have done anything to harm his precious hero, so it was probably safe. I tentatively tasted Potter's soup, it was good! After my third sip, I replied, "They are despicable creatures whose lives should be held in servitude to make up for the faults of their vile birth."

That was my Father's line, but it flew easily and convincingly from my lips. This conversation seemed to be making Potter angry and I'd learned long ago that I'd say _anything_ to get under his skin. Pretend that I support a guy whose name sounds like a smelly kind of cheese? Sign me up. Act as if I thought all muggle born wizards should be flayed alive? I'm first in line!

I didn't actually believe that Mudbloods should be killed.

Just taunted. Daily. Preferably by me!

He blinked at me. "I can't tell if you're joking, but remind me never to let you and Hermione talk about house elf rights."

"The Mudblood has a hard on for house elves? That is too good! Ah, Potter, this acquaintance is bearing fruit already!" I took a bite or roll at the thought of heckling Granger and hummed happily.

He stared at me through his round glasses, his green eyes thoughtful. "Or better yet, when I take you into public, maybe you should just sit there and look pretty. Talking ruins the illusion." At this I gave an affronted huff while finishing the last of the soup. I refused to respond to such a stupid comment.

Potter rested his head on his hand and gave another of those dopey smiles of his. "No, that wouldn't work. You're just too cute when you're saying horrible things."

"I'm not cute! Cute is for girls and short, nerdy guys with girly hair." I sniffed at him, but my astute retort was ruined by an accompanying yawn. The warm soup was making me feel drowsy and contented, as I hadn't had any sleep the night before, and I found myself slumping back to lounge on the large pillows. A horrible thought occurred to me. Potter was currently taller than me (a situation which would obviously be rectified when my growth spurt hit me). Perhaps to him, I really _was_ cute? Perish the thought!

I turned my head and looked through the squat legs of the table at the other boy, but all I saw were his legs.

"Potter, look at me when I'm glaring at you." I ordered. In response, he leaned down and peaked at me from under the edge, his hair falling to almost cover his eyes. We stared at each other for a moment in silence as I tried to decipher the look in his eyes. It was almost a _soft_ look, and I wasn't sure what that meant. Eh. It was probably just his glasses.

A comfortable sleepy wave swept over me and my eyes lidded slightly. "Hey, Potter, why are you always around lately? I can't take a step without you being there. I've been wondering about that." My voice was sluggish.

"Because…" He blushed slightly and opened his mouth hesitantly, but he didn't continue.

I felt so warm and comfortable that I closed my eyes and settled more fully into the cushions. I would tease Potter further as soon as I felt like opening my eyes, but would take just a second to rest. Just a second… As I fell into the darkness of sleep I heard a small rustling and a soft voice that seemed too quiet to be real.

"Draco…"

"I'm always there because I…well…I guess I'm trying to wear you down…"

**

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**

**A/N**

**Rousy P **– I couldn't ignore your comments. :) After reading them, and thinking about them, and reading them again and then rereading Chapter 13 (then I ate candy) – I decided that you were right! About much, of course, but especially that I've moved Harry a bit towards patronizing, which had not been my intent. Teasing – yes, patronizing – no. Sometimes it's easy to get caught up in the flow of conversation and miss important details like that! Just wanted to say - good eye! If you're interested in being a troubleshooter for the plot or anything, I can be reached at


	14. The List

**

* * *

Chapter 14. My clever, devious and completely fool proof plan. In other words: '_The List_'.

* * *

**

I woke up feeling a knot in my back and realized that I'd lost the large cushion I'd been using as a pillow. Apparently I had spent most of the night sprawled out directly on the floor. There was an unfamiliar robe covering me. I sat up, letting the robe pool in my lap and looked around, spotting Potter curled up in a ball a few feet away. He must have covered me with his robe. What a strange person he was.

Our little table was still loaded with the remains of our dinner. The house elves had been lazy. If only I could get my hands on that miniature traitor pet of Potter's!

Banishing thoughts of house elf mutilation, I crawled over and began munching on a leftover roll while eyeing my nemesis. He sort of looked…adorable when he was sleeping. His dark lashes fluttered every now and then and his mouth was hanging just slightly open. He reminded me of a sleeping child.

"Potter," I said in an annoyed tone. He clearly should have been up the second I woke. He didn't move, so I poked his side with my foot. He turned over while muttering in his sleep, his back now to me. I crawled over on all fours and leaned over him, tugging on his shoulder.

"Pooootttteeerrrr!" I whined. He opened his eyes slowly and focused blurrily on me. It must have been an odd sight, as his glasses were hanging from his face crookedly which allowed him only one 'good' eye. He gave me a smile, his eyes still looking sleepy.

"G'mornin' Draco," he replied in a husky voice, and I was abruptly pulled down into a hug.

"Hey!" I complained into the worn shirt covering his chest, "You Gryffindors need to learn about personal space. Let go!" In response, he tightened his hug and sighed happily into my hair. I have nothing against hugs per say, in fact, my mother used to give them to me regularly. Of course, Potter didn't quite feel like Mother. He was all hard planes and didn't smell of a light citrus, flowery scent. He was also very firm, but not at all bony. I wondered if I felt bony to him.

One of my knees was wedged between his legs which meant I could do some serious damage to the Boy-Who_-Lived_ if I wanted to. The thought made me smile, but his regular breathing and closed eyes revealed that he was sleeping again. He always did find a way to ruin my best laid plans! Trying to find as comfortable a position as could be had on idiotic sleeping Gryffindors, I shifted slightly while noticing that his body was _really_ warm.

His breath ruffled my hair and his arms tightened around me, causing my heart to skip a beat. I wiggled again and my eyes widened in alarm as I felt myself beginning to respond to the body in such close proximity to mine. I froze. _No, no, no! _This could **not** be happening! I had to get off before he realized! I tried to pull away, but this just caused a kind of delicious friction as our bodies rubbed together. I managed to heave back far enough to glare at him.

"Hey Potter, let go. Do you know where my knee is?" I growled threateningly. He opened one eye and peaked at me.

"I know _exactly_ where your knee is," he replied with a cheeky grin before letting me go. I quickly scooted back, willing my body to calm down. What had he meant by that? He'd been saying strange things since last night.

I stood grumpily and adjusted my robe carefully to cover the evidence of my arousal. Running a hand through my hair, I discovered that it was slightly messy, but still smooth and manageable. Unlike Potter's. I eyed his disgraceful figure with consternation as he bent to gather his robe and straightened his glasses.

"Draco," he said as he caught me with one hand on my arm at the door. "Let's meet again tonight. We could work on homework." I kept my body turned away. I needed a cold shower and I needed it now! Why was he bothering me at a time like this?

"Leave it, Scar Head," I snarled, "You've used up your allotted time for at_ least _a week. Bugger off."

A _very_ cold shower.

* * *

A few days later life had gone back to normal, or at least as normal as it could be for a Malfoy who had disgraced the wizarding community and was suffering from peculiar attractions to the wrong boys. It was just another average day in Potions, which found me doodling listlessly while watching Severus hover over Potter like a black cloaked bat. The last few classes had disintegrated into a tug-of-war between the two, and Severus had set the rest of the class to work on an essay. This was very unusual, as essays were _always_ done outside of class. Severus usually received great enjoyment at the thought of students agonizing over their Potions essays for hours on end. It seemed to him a far superior use of their day than other worthless tasks, such as sleeping or snogging.

Potter was exempt though, for the Professor had declared him incompetent and in need of remedial lessons. _During _Potions class. Therefore, Potter was slowly going through every potion in the first year's lesson book. He was not alone in his task, for Professor Snape was his private tutor. I laughed quietly as Potter's eyes flared in response to an insult about his parentage; he had _so_ many detentions now that he should probably just put a cot in the corner of the potions classroom.

The greasy haired Professor hauled Potter up to stare down into the boys' cauldron, words dripping from his lips like acid at the Gryffindors stupidity. Potter's back was now to me and I let my eyes rove up and down his body before stopping hungrily at the curve of his neck, just visible above his shirt. A flush came over me, leaving a prickly kind of heat across my skin and I felt myself responding.

Clutching my quill tightly, I pushed my eyes back to my parchment and focused on calming down again. This had been happening increasingly of late. It seemed like I now had to fight this wretched attraction towards the most inappropriate people every hour! Yesterday, I'd been attracted to a Hufflepuff, a _muggle born_ Hufflepuff! But finding Finch-Fletchley attractive is nothing compared to the fact that I am turned on by the Golden Boy!

I shuddered at that thought and closed my eyes for a second. Would these unnatural urges fade anytime soon? After all, they had sprung up so unexpectedly…but could I take that chance? If this continued, I would give myself away completely. My weakness would be exposed to the world.

I continued doodling and wondered if I should obtain a paramour. This is something powerful men have been doing for ages, and the Malfoy family was no exception. I had always assumed that I would one day possess both a spouse and a mistress, though I had not thought I would start down that path while still a student at Hogwarts. If I _were_ to use someone like that, it would have to be someone I could dominate, to use for physical pleasure only.

But who? My eyes swept the room before dropping to my parchment again. The Draco Malfoy of third year would have demanded a Slytherin pure-blood female from an impeccable family, but I was a very different person _now_. If this were to be for pleasure of the flesh only, it could be anyone I deemed worthy, right? I could choose any girl, or boy, that I so desired. It was true that I was currently attracted to the male gender but this did not change the fact that I would someday undoubtedly marry. I had always wanted a large family, the want probably stemming from my own lonely childhood. I remember the first time I had envisioned my life's goal, probably around the time I was seven. My goal was to marry, produce many sinfully attractive blonde babies, and then, naturally, achieve world domination.

That dream was still possible, though I had yet to figure out the mysterious _something_ that would link 'producing children' with 'world domination'. No matter, I'm sure I'll figure out that missing detail someday!

I moved my mind back to the matter at hand: a paramour. This was a situation that I would have to approach in a delicate manner. I would plan and plot the situation thoroughly, looking at it from all possible angles. Granted, I _could_ probably just sweep down the hallway and find an attractive person to drag into a broom closet and have my way with, but without the plotting it lacked that finesse that marked the actions of a Malfoy! I pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and set to work writing names as they came to me, crossing out those who had qualities which were deemed unworthy.

_**Pansy Parkinson**_

_Positives: Breeding_

_Negatives: More like 'Porkinson'. Nose makes her look like a pug and her looks are the only positive thing about her._

_**Daphne Greengrass**_

_Positives: Breeding_

_Negatives: Snorts when giggling, has had obvious work done on her breasts._

_**Millicent Bullstrode**_

_Positives: Breeding, talking to her is not painful. _

_Negatives: Biceps of a disturbing size for a female._

I jotted down a few more names, finding faults with each and every one and then pulled back to survey my list. The Slytherin house really did lack interesting females. I began again, this time focusing on Slytherin men. After all, this list was merely for _planning_ _purposes_, and I was simply keeping my options open to obtain the very best.

_**Theodore Nott** _

_Positives: Superior Breeding. Commanding Presence. Proper Slytherin mind. _

_Negatives: Too thin, but may fill out as he ages. Eyes are little too direct. Not sure if he is a lemming like the others – he's always been quiet._

_**Crabbe & Goyle** _

_Positives: Breeding. _

_Negatives: Ew, just ew! Sex with someone who never stops eating? Ew! Lemming TRAITORS!_

_**Blaise Zabini**_

_Positives: Good face. _

_Negatives: Who hasn't he been with? (Crabbe & Goyle?) He's a slut – want my first time to be special. Annoying sense of humor._

I frowned and stopped for a moment surveying the list again. _"I want me first time to be special?"_ Why in the world had I written _that_? I decided to move on to the other houses, for it seemed best to avoid the dark secrets that apparently lurked in my subconscious when dealing with other Slytherins. I set to work on Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but had trouble thinking of more than a handful of people from either house as I can never quite remember their names. I knew "girl who gulps when I walk by" was a Hufflepuff and "boy with donkey laugh" was a Ravenclaw, but I honestly had no idea as to their actual _names. _Even with this small setback, my list was a healthy length by the time I started listing students from the fourth Hogwarts house. I was sure all Gryffindors would be found unworthy but was determined to be thorough. After all, no one can say I'm prejudiced.

_**Hermione Granger**_

_Positives: Almost intelligent. _

_Negatives: Truly inferior breeding. Disturbing Teeth – they shrink - they grow - they shrink! Gets better grades than me when she shouldn't even be allowed on the grounds! Believe she has sexual relations with house elves because the object of her lust (the Golden Boy) is unobtainable._

_**Ron Weasley**_

_Positives: A pure blood. _

_Negatives: The Weasel! Ugly frog-like mouth. Pothead's best friend, which shows that he is an inferior specimen of a wizard. Think he lusts after the Golden Boy secretly._

_**Seamus Finnigan**_

_Positives: Works out regularly._

_Negatives: Has some sort of seizure problem or something. This results in odd behaviors such as tripping me and trying to feel me up or grabbing my ass. (The brain disorder is perhaps due to his inferior breeding?) Lusts after the Golden Boy openly. Shouldn't be at Hogwarts, should be at St. Mungo's!_

_**Neville Longbottom**_

_Positives: Pure Blood._

_Negatives: Pudding formed into humanoid shape. Think he secretly wants Professor Snape riding him like a bronco. As if! Severus has much higher standards than that, you half squib! Believe he practices snogging with his toad…_

_**Fred & George Weasley**_

_Positives: Pure bloods. Can't tell them apart. _

_Negatives: Weasleys! Not as ugly as the Weasel, but close. Weird sense of humor – think they may have some sort of incestuous sexual relationship with each other. Mustn't let them get too close, inbreeding doubtlessly causes disease. Bet they want a threesome with the Golden Boy in the middle!_

_**Ginerva Weasley**_

_Positives: Pure blood._

_Negatives: A Weasley! Not as ugly as the Weasel, but close. Snippy when she has no right to be, coming from such a pathetic family as she does. Think she lusts after the Golden Boy secretly. Or not so secretly, but then Weasleys are so obvious!_

_**Harry Potter** _

_Positives: Not as ugly as Weasley. _

_Negatives: Glasses. Beats me at Quidditch! _

_Has this annoying savior-like habit of rescuing the school and getting in the way when I should be the one who saves the school. But no, he always has to be at the right place at the right time and accidentally save us all. Of course, if I were in his place I could do what he does easily! Not that I would, because they can all rot in the juices of their own stupidity! **However**, the point remains that if anyone should be famous for saving anyone, it should be me! _

_Stupid Potter._

_Too nice. Likes to help everyone! Too trusting! _

_Flies funny. Riding that broom, all sweaty and flushed, his skin glowing like he's some sort of god. _

I drew back and frowned at the word '_god', _scratching it out to replace it with the word _'turkey'. _There, that was better.

The sound of movement and chatter brought me back to the present and I looked up to see that class was over. Ha! It looked like Potter had to stay behind after class again! Stupid git. He looked _miserable _when, really, he should be overjoyed at the prospect of spending time with such a debonair man!

The list hadn't been as concise and orderly as I'd hoped, but it was good to have a start. I carefully pulled together my books and sighed. The boredom of two afternoon classes, dinner and then a night spent working on a Care of Magical Creatures Essay loomed before me. I think that idiot Hagrid makes us write essays just so that he can pretend he knows how to read!


	15. Twins, beatings and Hufflepuffs oh my!

**Chapter 15. Twins, beatings and someone who _doesn't_ fancy Draco Malfoy - Oh my! **

I was in a spectacularly bad mood as I exited the Slytherin common room the next morning. I hadn't made any headway at all on the Magical Creatures essay. Really, who cares about Jarveys, anyway? I only hoped that after writing the whole thing we wouldn't be subjected to actually seeing such a deplorable creature! Stupid overgrown ferrets.

"Malfoy." A cold, nasal voice rudely interrupted my morning ruminations. I looked up to see Theodore Nott standing before me, appearing as thin and gangly as ever.

"Nott," I replied curtly.

Nott leaned down, his face now inches from mine. I inwardly winced at the height difference. "I hope you enjoy today, blood traitor."

"Oh, I plan to," I purred smoothly, without a twitch in my pale features at his hostility.

"I found such an _interesting_ thing last night."

"Spare me the details from your latest wank fest." I pushed past him forcefully after uttering the cutting remark. He'd better not have made me late for breakfast.

He smirked in response and let me pass, but I could feel his beady eyes on the back of my neck as I continued down the hall. I didn't give him the satisfaction of turning around to acknowledge his glare, but I knew I should be wary. Theodore Nott was from a family which rivaled my own, though both had suffered tarnish after the defeat of the Dark Lord. It was such a sad turn of events, really, to be forced into this new world in which nobility counted for nothing. Turning a corner, my bad mood now solidified by the run in, I realized that there were two tall figures in the middle of the dungeon blocking my path. The Weasley Twins. I felt my ire rise. How dare they stand in a corridor of the Slytherin dungeons, as if they were **not** good for nothing Gryffindor scum?

"What do you think you're doing here?" I snapped. They must have heard me, but they didn't look my way. They were apparently too busy staring at each other intently. Gryffindors are so strange.

"Oh Fred!" one said, putting his arms around his twin and tugging the tall boy closer.

"George!" the other replied, running his fingers through his brother's ugly red hair.

"Kiss me Fred!" I stopped in my tracks and a surprised whine came from my throat as the horror of twins in heat unfolded before me.

"Wait, I'm not Fred, you're Fred." This was said in a breathless voice, as if his emotions were clouding his ability to speak.

"Oh, how silly, I can never tell us apart! Kiss me anyway, George!" The red head pushed his lanky brother up against a painting of Araminta Melliflua and began making kissing noises against his neck. The old hag gave a shriek and fled her podium, and the painting entirely in great haste. I decided she'd had the right idea and rushed past the entwined twins with my eyes averted and my cheeks flushed. As I took the next turn in the dungeon labyrinth I distinctly heard one of the twins say, "Wait, let's find Harry and have a threesome!"

I shuddered, and a few more turns at top speed brought me to the exit from the labyrinth, but not to freedom. Another unworthy cretin was intent on blocking my way— Neville Longbottom. He was sitting on the cold stone floor with his head bowed. At my approaching footsteps, he twitched, much like he was one of the rodents that Severus kept around for testing potions on and glanced up, eyes locking on my form.

"M-Malfoy!" he squeaked while standing.

"Lost again, loser?"

"N-no, that's why I stayed here, near the entrance."

"Get out of my way, Lardbottom."

"Wait, it's just…"

I gave him a withering glare in response, but the inept boy dared to reach out with a chubby hand and tug on my sleeve! This was accompanied by a quavering voice. "But it's just…how did you know?"

What on earth was he babbling about? "I know everything," I replied in a superior tone.

"You didn't…that is to say…did you, well, read my diary?" he asked in a broken voice, my robe still clutched in his grubby paws. I wrenched my sleeve free and opened the door to the Entrance Hall. The scene was not one that I had anticipated and I stopped in surprise, which caused the whimpering Longbottom to run into me from behind. The Entrance Hall was crowded. Unexpectedly so. It was breakfast time, so usually people would pass through quickly on their way to the Great Hall, but they weren't doing that now.

The crowd seemed to be gathered across from the Main Doors, where the hourglasses resided. I advanced, feeling a cold prickle down my spine, a suspicion beginning to form in my mind. I let nothing show on my face besides boredom, but my legs, hidden under my robe, were shaking from the strain.

A flushed Ginny Weasley pushed herself in front of me, her nose red and her eyes narrowed. Without a greeting or apology for daring to block my way, I was suddenly punched in the stomach. I froze, my hand going to my abdomen in surprise. I'd hardly exchanged more than two words with the red haired twit, what was _this_?

"Not as ugly as Ron, but close?" she screamed into my face, spittle flying, before turning to run away. I frantically wiped my face, wondering if I'd get some sort of disease from her inferior spit, as a blonde Hufflepuff girl took her place. I vaguely remembered her as the girl who freaked out a lot—Hannah Abbott. She gave me a decidedly unfriendly look and slapped me across the face. It stung!

"What do you think you're doing, you Hufflepuff loser?" I snarled. If she thought I wouldn't hit a girl, she was mistaken!

"I don't pull my hair back so tightly that it looks like my brain is trying to leak out of my eyes! I don't!" Tears began running down her face and she then turned to run away after the girl Weasley. Was every female in school going to attack me today? The murmured voices around me began rising in volume as the gathered students realized I was now in their midst. Some turned to watch my progress with curious eyes, while others stood in groups talking heatedly or laughing loudly. I pushed my way through the group gathered around the House Hourglasses. The brightly gleaming gem filled receptacles _appeared_ no different from usual at my first glance. Slytherin still had the most gems, I noticed proudly.

However, the four pieces of parchment floating in the air beside them were decidedly out of the norm.

It was at that moment that I realized that I probably shouldn't have bought the custom made parchment with my name emblazoned across the top followed by a light etching of the Malfoy family crest. It had seemed like a time saving measure at the time, but the fact that the name _Draco Malfoy _was very visible to any passer by was not a good sign. It was written in bold black letters, followed by my detailed list of potential paramours. This was a problem.

I didn't mind that the students knew what I thought of them, for I told most of them to their faces often enough. What I did mind was that anyone who had read the list, which would be every gathered student here, and apparently the Weasley twins _and_ Longbottom, judging from their behavior, would know that I was looking for a sexual partner and I had listed THEM as a potential. As I drew closer, I realized they wouldn't even have to read the list fully to figure it out, for under my crest some helpful person had written '_See Who Malfoy Wants To Shag'._ That was not my handwriting! I reached up to pull the first fragment down, but my fingers grasped at air. I was just slightly too short to reach!

"What does slat-tern-ly mean?" a second year Hufflepuff asked a dark haired Ravenclaw behind me.

"Well," the Ravenclaw said with that all important tone of voice that Granger loves to use, "The issue here is that he used it incorrectly. Slattern always refers to women, but as you can see, he's referring to a boy. You'll notice other grammatical errors here, here and here." The crowd was getting vicious! And besides, I hadn't misspelled anything! I was a Malfoy, words should change themselves to suit me.

"Incendio!" I shouted while carefully aiming my wand. I was able to dispose of all four parchments, which caused the crowd to grumble and begin to disperse. I kept a fierce glare on my face to further push the idea of approaching me from any of the students' minds.

What was I to do? Pretend that there was no list? Mock anyone who brought it up? With these thoughts tumbling through my head, I turned to the Great Hall, mechanically heading toward breakfast. A tall figure waved at me from the white marble steps and I glanced up to see Justin Finch-Fletchly smiling and beckoning me. I scowled, but continued on my current path. I wouldn't be pushed around even if a dozen Hufflepuffs stood in my way!

"Out of the way, Flinchy," I ordered in an icy tone.

"Did you mean this?" he asked, shoving a parchment into my hands. He had a copy of my list. There were more than four copies of this thing? I scanned down to find his name and re-read my notes. I hadn't said anything nice, but nothing too horrendous, even by weepy Hufflepuff standards. What was his problem?

"Of course I meant it!" I affirmed, wondering if he liked to slap innocent Slytherins too, like that _other_ Hufflepuff I'd run into this morning. I hoped not. He was bigger and looked stronger than Hannah Abbot.

"Oh. Then you really do like my body. You're brave to be admitting this." He blushed at me; his neatly cut brown hair shifting slightly on his forehead as he tipped his face to one side. He reminded me of a mid-level ministry official, overfed and oh so very boring.

"What? No, see, I was complaining about you wandering around without a shirt after you shower."

"You say that my chest is muscular and glistens."

"But I put that as a negative, a negative! See, right after that I say that you have no shame!" I pointed with flourish and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Umm…whatever you say, but I wanted you to know that I'm really flattered. I thought you hated all muggle born, even the superiorly bred ones like me." He beamed. He apparently had an inner ear infection and was not hearing what I was saying. Probably some muggle related physical inferiority, akin to the mysterious problem with Finnigan's brain.

"I do hate muggle born people like you," I said frostily.

"Uh huh…yeah, but, you see, it wouldn't work out. I'm afraid I'm interested in Harry." He patted me on the arm with a pompous look on his face. I narrowed my eyes at him. He was interested in Potter?

"Are you stupid?" I snarled. "Potter isn't into guys!"

A comical expression took over the Hufflepuff's face before he burst into laughter, hawing like a loon. I pushed past him with a bitter glare. What the hell? Had everyone gone mad? A nice compliment to the girl Weasley about not being as ugly as her hideous brother got me slugged and insults about half dressed exhibitionists were somehow a come on? I stepped through the door and strode to the Slytherin table, not bothering to look around. I heard a few titters at my appearance, but I ignored them.

I sat and carefully placed my hands on either side of my plate, taking small calming breaths. I would not let this uncomfortable situation to visibly ruffle my feathers. Some students were openly staring, and there were a few snickers, but it was not as bad as could be expected. It was a lighter crowd, though, as there were noticeable absences. Thankfully all Weasleys were absent, as well as Granger, though Potter was sitting in his customary place directly across from me. He was staring at me, his fork hanging listlessly from his hand. I narrowed my eyes threateningly, but he only gave a nod and smile in return. I rolled my eyes at him in exasperation. It was rather hard to stay mad at someone who looks cute while sleeping.

Blaise Zabini's annoying voice cut through our glaring contest (though really, Potter was failing on the glaring part as he kept forgetting not to smile every few seconds) and I turned to see the black haired Slytherin sitting a few seats down. He was speaking to several younger students. "Well, let's see now, it's true, I'm having trouble naming anyone else I haven't been with."

"What about the teachers?" Graham Prichard asked, with awe in his voice.

"Well, you have to look at the definition of shagging, now, don't you? Poppy and I've had a few moments and there's always Snape. Things can get really hot during potions, if you know what I mean." I stood abruptly, my face now red with angry. Blaise was such a little liar! I approached him on sinuous legs, finally having a target for all of my pent up rage. Unfortunately, I was stopped in my quest for righteous vengeance by an arm sneaking its way around my shoulders.

"Hey there, sexy!"

Finnigan. He smiled down at me, a grin breaking his round, peasant-like face.

"Remove your arm from my person," I snarled, quivering with raw fury.

"Oh, but I saw what you said about me: 'works out regularly'."

"I also said you have a brain disorder." I retaliated, while giving him a quick jab to the stomach. Potter had taught me that one, and as luck would have it, it worked. Now free of his grabby hands, I straightened my robe, with quick pats down my arms as if to brush invisible Gryffindor dirt off of me.

He grinned in response and gave a wink. "You know, I could help make it special for you." There he went with the babbling again!

"Make what special? Are you this way with everyone or do you regress to an ape only around your betters?" I snapped.

"I'm talking about your first time; you said you wanted it to be special. That's so cute! Oh, hello Harry!" He waved cheerily to someone, and I felt a familiar presence approach my back. Great, now Potter knew Finnigan was trying to pick me up. Badly, I might add.

"Seamus," Potter said in a low voice.

"Hiya mate!" They stared at each other.

Seamus gave a cheeky smile and attempted to flirt with Potter by wagging his eyebrows.

The black haired boy responded with a stern look through his round glasses.

I sighed grumpily.

"But Hermione, wait, I'm sorry, wait!" Ron Weasley wailed, running towards us, which nicely broke up the _special_ _moment_ between the two boys standing next to me. He was chasing after a curly headed creature of some sort. It sort reminded me of a Portuguese water dog, but did Dumbledore even allow dogs in Hogwarts?

…Oh, wait, that was Granger with wet hair.

"Malfoy, I can't believe you! There really is not a spark of good in your twisted soul! How could you write that about me?" The Mudblood sobbed, pushing back her mass of sopping hair, tears streaming down her face. I wondered idly which part she was the most upset about. "How could you say I slept with house elves? How? I mean, this doesn't even address the issue of physics…the proportions are just all wrong! But really, I have done nothing inappropriate with these noble creatures. I merely have formed the_ Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare_ to help them! I have no other motives!" She pointed at an ugly button on her robes.

"S.P.E.W., you could have named your stupid nerd group anything and you come up with something that's acronym is _spew_?" This took away my anger and I started laughing at the absurdity.

"Well, originally I thought of _Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status_, but that was much too large to even think of fitting on a button." This had me laughing harder.

"Granger," I managed between gasps of air, "House elves should be stuffed and mounted on the wall if they deviate an inch from their orders. And-they-should-like_-_it!" Granger turned a gratifying shade of white at my comment before drawing back and slapping me across the cheek. In the same spot I'd been hit by that blonde Hufflepuff no less!

"Oi," I began, "What is it with you chicks and hitting?" I let my hand drop and took a step toward her. Oh, it was _on_ now, no more _Mr. Nice Malfoy_! I lunged, only to find my hand held back by Potter. He gave it a quick jerk and I fell backwards, which caused me to land against his chest. He casually draped one arm around my shoulders to keep me stationary.

"You deserved that," he muttered his voice a low rumble in my ears. It sent tickling sensations to the base of my spine and caused my stomach to twist. "What you said to Hermione wasn't very nice."

"I've been hit by too many girls today, what is it, free range on the closest pure blood?" I complained up at him.

"Well, but, people don't know that you don't mean everything you say. They'll take you seriously."

"What? I mean everything I say," I glowered.

"No you don't," he said with a smile. I glared up at him, but was distracted by the fighting which was now breaking out between Weasley and Granger.

"I don't want to hear it, Ron," the brown haired girl said with a sniff.

"But Hermione, don't believe it! I don't lust after him; he's just my best friend. Sure, we've slept in the same sleeping bag during camping trips, but everybody does that!"

"Oh please Weasel, where there's smoke..." I insinuated with a smirk, which caused Finnigan to break into laughter. At this, I realized I was completely surrounded by Gryffindors. Maybe this, along with my list finding the light of day, was reason enough to become suicidal? I would have to rectify this situation, starting with the annoying _Boy-Who-Lived-To-Hug._

"Hey, Potter, let go," I hissed. "People are going to get the wrong idea."

"What?" he asked looking down at me in confusion.

Merlin! He was stupid! "They're going to think that you're hugging me or something instead of holding me back from kicking the mudblood around the Great Hall!"

"Ah, I see, yes, wouldn't want anyone to misunderstand." The arm looped around my shoulders gave a quick squeeze but didn't let go, I huffed in annoyance while giving him a glare. He really must think I was about to injure his precious Granger! (He was right on _that_ count.) Of course, I might not be able to actually complete that task, as Granger had rounded on Weasley and was shouting at him about camping and her suspicions as Finnigan attempted to distract the both of them by offering full body massages in his room. Gryffindors! I rubbed my sore cheek and wondered if I should bother interrupting to exact my retribution.

"Hey, Draco," Potter whispered down, "Would you like to get together and work on the jarveys essay? I have Hermione's notes, which should be a real help."

"As if I'd use such inferior notes," I sniffed condescendingly, but without true feeling behind it. For all of Granger's many faults (most of them related to her inability to understand her place), she was intelligent and those notes _would_ definitely help.

"Well, and you look tense, I could give you a back massage to help you relax," he added. I gave the idea thought.

"If you'll let go, I'll think about it," I said haughtily. His arm dropped and I hastily stepped away.

Now free, I turned and stormed rather majestically from the Great Hall before the entire Gryffindor House decided to descend upon me, but a voice followed me to the door.

"Seven p.m...tonight!"

I gave Potter a very special response with my favorite finger, wondering how I'd become so weak that I was actually setting up little study dates with my mortal enemy. Was it just me, or was I living in a world gone mad?


	16. The Study Date

* * *

**Chapter 16. The Study Date.**

* * *

I grumbled under my breath as I climbed the steep stairway, finally nearing what appeared to be the fourth floor. It had taken longer than usual as I'd just had a little run in with one of the raven haired Patil twins. She had ambushed me in the hall to scream at me (rather incoherently, I might add) about her name not being Pajama. Whatever. 

I couldn't really blame Potter for my continued problems with the now infamous _Shag List_, as Theodore Nott had as much as admitted that he'd been the one behind the entire fiasco. I would have to find a way to 'thank' the skinny Slytherin properly. My mind was already creating intricate plans involving the Malfoy dungeons, honey and a family of underfed garden gnomes.

But, the fact still remained that it was illogical for Potter's little meeting room to be located all the way on the seventh floor. I just _knew_ he'd picked this spot because he loved making me trek _all_ the way up from the dungeons, while he, from his pretty little tower, could just meander over. Probably whistling a happy hero tune as he strolled!

"Selfish bloody Gryffindors," I muttered while turning the corner to the next set of stairs. Unfortunately, a quick glance up revealed that I was no longer alone; for Blaise Zabini was heading down to meet me. As he caught sight of me, his lips twisted in what he must have thought was disdain. It was rather amusing really.

"Meeting your boyfriend?" he asked in a light voice.

He was on to me!

Not the boyfriend part, but I _was_ meeting Potter and here Zabini was blocking my path and delaying any possible back massage!

"Oh, please," I replied dismissively, to signify that his question was beneath my notice.

"What's happened to you Draco?" he asked suddenly, which earned him a slightly confused look. After all, what hadn't happened to me? Ignored by my house, the unwitting helper of the most annoying boy alive, and once again I was the laughing stock of the whole school thanks to Nott finding my list.

He sighed at my expression and muttered, "You used to be so perfect, above all of the unwashed masses."

"I still am," I returned with a superior look.

"It was disgusting today, letting Potter fondle you in the Great Hall in front of everyone. You used to pretend to be too good for anyone that wasn't a tight assed, rich pureblood of a Slytherin! Too good for me!" The poor boy's voice shook more and I eyed him with contempt. Zabini didn't have the necessary edge to his voice to _really_ deliver an insult. Amateurs. Why must they think they can play with the big boys?

"I am," I replied smoothly, "But I believe that you are confused. Potter was holding me back to stop me from wrecking havoc on the mudblood."

"That's not what it looked like."

"Your pitiful eyesight is _not_ my problem." I let disdain creep into my voice subtly, just as Severus had earlier when he'd delivered a similar line. It was good to know that I was not wasting my Hogwart's education!

An uncertain look flickered across the other boy's face. Blaise is so easy to read! I pretended to buff my nails on my chest while continuing my speech. "Anyway, your little taunts are getting old. I wish you Slytherins would come up with new material if you simply _must_ bother me."

As I pushed my way past him, he said softly, "They're starting to call you the Gryffindor Gigolo, you know?"

"As if I care what the duped masses think," I said silkily. "Oh, and Blaise?" I put my hands on either side of his head cornering him against the wall, which was pretty easy as he is the size of a third year.

He gulped. I smirked as a rush of adrenaline hit my body. _This_ is why I had loved being a Slytherin. Fear and subservience is like candy for the Malfoy soul!

I leaned in and whispered, "Just so you know… I'm too good for tight assed, rich, pureblood Slytherins even now."

Without another word, I turned and strode towards the stairs to the fifth floor. I knew that Blaise wasn't my enemy; he was just lost in this changing world. He used to worship me, but after I saved the world at that idiotic Gryffindor's side, he was left without someone to emulate. I had let him down. But he had let me down first, by following the rank and file of the house like a good little Slytherin sycophant.

As I walked down the corridor, I mulled over the fact that I now considered Slytherins to be contemptible and that Potter of all people was looking shaggable (a fact which I was trying to force from my mind). This led me to almost walk past the ugly picture of the man dancing with trolls.

However, I must have taken a wrong turn, for there was no visible door. The wall was blank. I frowned and muttered under my breath about idiotic Gryffindor games and wondered if it wasn't too late to join the 'Dark Lord Revival' organization. Nah, it wasn't like they'd succeed. And really now, bringing him back from the dead again was just a bad idea. The man was ugly enough _before_ he'd died at Potter's wand, just imagine what a year in the dirt had done to his complexion! Plus, he had been completely insane, mustn't forget that.

As I turned to leave, there was a small clicking sound and a door formed before my eyes. It was thrust open and Potter stood with his hand on the knob, eyes landing on me.

"Hi Draco! I just realized I never told you how to get into the Room of Requirement!"

"This is _that_ room?" I replied in amazement, for once letting my face show my admiration for the other boy. I had known of this room, of course, but had never been given the location. Father never had time to explain. I approached the door cautiously, wishing I had the ability to see the strings of magic which held such an enchantment together. As I let one hand run along the door I smiled at Potter for sharing this soon to be useful secret with me. Smiling was apparently a bad move, for he abruptly pulled me into a tight hug.

"Potter!" I complained in a disgruntled tone, trying to worm my way away from the embrace. To make matters worse, the idiot was giving me a full body hug which was causing blood to rush to places other than my head. With renewed energy, I managed to squirm away and fell into the room, the parchments I'd been carrying scattering.

"Stop it with all the hugging! People are getting the wrong idea," I snapped huffily, gathering my fallen possessions.

"You think?" he asked before returning to the table, where papers were spread, his quill messily dripping ink on the table.

"Yes, they are! I know you're a needy Gryffindor and all, but you act like you didn't get any hugs when you were a kidlette."

"I didn't, well, none that I'd remember. My parents may have hugged me."

"But not your foster parents? I heard you lived with muggles? I bet muggles are always touching and groping each other, bunch of perverts." I tried to imagine a muggle home. A dirty room filled with bizarre metal contraptions came to mind and I could clearly picture the gaggle of fat, naked people that resided within, spending their time alternating between grunting and scratching. Of course, there was the fact that both Granger and Finnigan were descended from muggles. Make that a gaggle of fat, naked, arrogant _and_ horny creatures. I shuddered.

"No. I never got a single hug from them." He looked serious as he said this and I studied his downcast face. I didn't think this was part of any trick; this was the real Harry Potter. Lonely as a child? The thought that he was anything but praised and coddled had never entered my mind.

"Well, there are other ways to show affection. I'm sure you got presents." I quickly assured him. After all, that had been Father's way.

"My birthdays weren't celebrated." He turned his face downward and began spreading his books, obviously avoiding my eyes. He looked so _sad_ that I felt a twinge of something in my chest. I'd had plenty of love from Mother while growing up. Well, that is, until I'd reached the age of eight and stopped allowing her to curl my hair and put me in lace covered dress robes. Potter had led such a different life. It almost made a person feel sorry for the git.

"Well, you can hug me every now and then, in private, okay?" I muttered in an annoyed voice as he continued avoiding my gaze. "Just don't get carried away."

He glanced up at me at this and a small smile came onto his face. I frowned in response, wondering if I'd been tricked in some way as I had just agreed to let him use me to fulfill his childish cuddling needs. Well, whatever his plot, it was I who was in control and manipulating the situation. Even if his deprived childhood was almost touching in a way.

Deciding to avoid his now annoyingly direct gaze, I began pouring over the nerdlette's notes and was soon smiling. This would definitely make things easier, for she'd actually written down what the oaf had said! She'd even been looking into the _legal rights_ of Jarveys, which was hilarious. Of course, she had reached the wrong conclusion, but then again she was a mudblood, so what could one expect? Silly girl. Just because something _can_ speak does not mean it is anything more than an oversized rat. My essay '_Jarvey Hunting for Fun and Profit' _was soon underway and I set to arguing against her points with gusto.

I was outlining my idea for a sporting event which involved large slings, the aforementioned Jarveys, and wizards with Quidditch Beater bats, which would surely rake in the galleons, when Potter's voice broke the quiet.

"Draco," he said quietly. "Are you going to the Halloween dance next week?" I turned my head and saw that he was leaning towards me.

"Yes, if only to torment those who should not attempt to dance. You _are_ going to drag some poor girl to the floor, aren't you Potter?" I smirked.

"Ack, no, but I thought maybe we could go together? If you didn't have a date?"

"What? Are you mad?" I was aghast at both his asking me to the dance and the fact that he still didn't realize that no one would currently date me, unless they were completely reprehensible (or a Gryffindor).

"Oh…are you afraid to go against the others and be seen with me?" he replied in a disappointed tone of voice.

"Take that back!" I hissed at him, "I am never afraid! I just think that you're taking this acquaintance thing a little too seriously." Instead of replying, he turned back to his own paper, now frowning. I noticed he hadn't gotten very far on it, a few sentences only. No wonder he had such trouble in Potions if it took him this long to write a paper when there were no distractions present!

"Listen," I said finally, breaking the quiet calm which had seeped into the room. "If your costume's not completely dreadful, I'll hang out with you during the dance. How about that?"

He smiled in response and we spent the rest of the night in silence before parting to go back to our respective houses. I had ordered my costume weeks ago, but wasn't sure if it would arrive in time. It had been custom made, after all, and was one of a kind. I was glad that mother had access to a small portion of the Malfoy funds, though truthfully, I would have preferred _her_ over the galleons she occasionally sent.

I rather reluctantly thought about Father as well. He was probably sitting in an Azkaban cell slowly being driven to madness by the lack of his obsessions (namely underage teenagers who looked like hobbits). I did feel _slightly_ bad for him but I was rather glad about the arrangement. I wouldn't have to see Father unless I suddenly had a crazy urge to visit him. (Which I surely wouldn't unless someone obliviated away the years of torture, i.e. his idea of 'parenting').

And it wasn't like Father would be getting out anytime in this century. I had made sure of that by providing every ounce of incriminating evidence at my disposal!

I hummed a tune as I walked back to the Slytherin dorms.


	17. The Halloween Dance

**

* * *

Chapter 17. The Halloween Dance.

* * *

**

The night of the Halloween dance found me leaning casually against the wall of the Great Hall. I was trying to be incognito, remembering all too well the horrors of the **last** party I'd attended, the _Yule Ball._ This time the décor was a robust take on the harvest, with huge gourds grown with rather suspicious devotion by Professor Sprout.

I knew I was especially hot tonight, for once again the mirror had whistled at me on my way out. I was wearing a military style costume based on a uniform worn by my ancestor, Thierry Malfoy. His look had actually inspired the local muggle fashions of the time. It was a dark blue coat over tightly fitted breeches paired with knee high black boots. The lacy cravat was adorned with a small copy of the Malfoy house of arms.

To make the costume even more dashing, I had a replica of Thierry's sword and scabbard at my side, in which I had cleverly hidden my wand. Yes, it was true that I felt rather manly and mysterious tonight.

A few glances were sent my way, but I managed to radiate disdain, thus labeling me as utterly unapproachable. Truthfully, I didn't want any more psychotic people hounding me because of my ill-fated 'shag' list.

Now, where was that dratted Potter? At least I could keep myself entertained by sending him to fetch punch and goodies and the like. I surveyed the crowd and noticed Finch-Fletchley nearby, dressed in an ugly red and blue monstrosity. He was chatting up a half dressed boy at the pumpkin juice bowl.

It was interesting how obvious his actions suddenly were, now that I knew all about _his_ leanings. It's a wonder that I'd missed it before! He leaned forward, and as if it were a casual mistake, ran one hand along the other boys arm. The other boy stepped back slightly, but smiled in response, his black hair almost glimmering in the light. Wait a second! Messy black hair, athletic Quidditch body barely covered by thin leather straps, a multi colored scarf in his hair and an eye patch! What on earth was Potter wearing?

The boys continued chatting as Potter turned back to the juice bowl to pour himself a glass and the dratted Hufflepuff leaned towards him with a lecherous smirk. He actually hovered over my Potter as if he had the right! How dare he? Potter was my slave! He was not some sexual object for a half baked muggle born to drool over!

I watched with narrowed eyes as Finch-Fletchley sidled up closer to Potter while the oblivious Gryffindor continued fiddling with the crystal glasses on the table. I would have to put a stop to this. But…to march right over and start a fight with the annoying Hufflepuff poof, no matter how much he deserved it, would not be becoming. That would be the Gryffindor way to handle this situation. I needed someone to do my dirty work for me.

A quick glance around the room revealed the perfect person. Seamus Finnigan. The blonde boy was standing a few feet away, chatting with a group of Gryffindor girls in glittering pastel costumes. Even though I was in pain due to the sheer absurdity of their costumes, I managed to keep my grey eyes trained on the Irish git. He finally noticed my glare and shot me a confused look, his mouth falling open.

I gave an imperious twitch of my finger. He was in some sort of navy pajama set with a strange hat perched on his head. It looked like a white box with wings. Gryffindors are so strange!

"Hiya Draco, you wanted me? Did'ya wanna dance?" Finnigan smiled and I took a step back to make sure my backside was flush against the column behind me. I didn't want to give him the opportunity to do any of his groping, or Salazar forbid, _pinching_.

"No. However, you _will_ do something for me," I said, surveying him coolly.

"Oh? Does it involve making a first time special?" he asked cheekily. My hand strayed to my scabbard to administer a curse which certainly wouldn't allow him to do anything of the sort for the rest of the week, but I stopped, letting my hand fall flat against my side. After all, I was trying to be _nice_ to the brain addled boy!

"No. Listen. Go over to that perverted brown haired Hufflepuff and do your thing. You know, jump him, trip him, and then grab him. The usual." At my commanding words, Finnigan turned in the direction of my finger and noticed Finch-Fletchley. He shook his head slightly in refusal.

"Er…sorry mate, but I don't think so, he's not really my type."

"What are you talking about?" I asked in utter shock, "you hit on Longbottom and all the Weasleys for Merlin's sake! You have no type!"

"Well, that's because they're Gryffindors. How can I not hit on people that I see everyday?"

"Don't lie to me, you Irish slut," I snarled. "You bother me enough and I'm not a bloody Gryffindork!"

"That's because you're definitely my type! You're the first Slytherin I've liked. The second wasn't really what I would go for, but he was so persistent, that Zabini chap!" He said cheerfully.

"Z-Zabini?"

"He kept saying he liked my blonde hair, but when we were getting it on, he would ask me to 'talk snooty' to him. It was just too strange for my tastes, mate, so I avoided all the other snakes after that. Well, except for you." At his statement, I put a trembling hand to my head, closing my eyes to block out the insanity.

"Seamus, what are you doing to Draco?" Through my fingers I could see Potter's shadow as he joined our merry little party. I lowered my hand and realized that he had come alone, leaving that annoying brown haired twit at the pumpkin juice bowl. Had he come because Finnigan was here? I would have to remember that Finnigan was a Potter magnet.

"But Harry, he asked me to come over, and we were just having a nice chat," Finnigan assured the black haired boy.

"Your purpose has been served Finnigan, go away now," I snapped imperiously with a dismissive nod. As luck would have it, Potter apparently wanted him gone as well, for he joined me in bidding the blonde boy farewell. Finnigan visibly wilted.

"Awwww, guys! Where's the love?" he demanded while acting out a mock heartbreak, one hand clutching his chest dramatically.

Potter looked at me and shook his head ruefully. I rolled my eyes at him. Thankfully, our combined efforts succeeded in driving Finnigan off, obviously in search of more agreeable prey. I turned to give Potter a piece of my mind, the indignity of that other boy hitting on him at the punchbowl still fresh in my mind, but was stopped as he thrust a glass of what was probably spiked punch into my hands.

"I got you something to drink. I even managed to find a Slytherin cup!" He beamed at me over the success of his find. Indeed, the cup in my hands had small snakes etched along the rim. That was actually quite…thoughtful. I took a sip while eyeing the black haired boy. He was bare-chested, unless one counted the thin leather straps that covered absolutely nothing, and he wore black pants tucked into brown knee-high boots.

"What exactly are you supposed to be anyway?" I inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Me? Oh, I'm a pirate! Er…_Ar ye maties_?" He tried to smile, but at my continued blank expression, he began to blush.

"What in the world is this thing called a pirate?"

"A pirate? Oh, well, they plundered the seas in boats and buried treasure and took captives. They were kind of bad men..." His voice trailed off and he fidgeted with one of the leather straps covering his chest. I was snickering at the thought of Potter pretending to be 'bad' when voices to our right drew my attention.

Finnigan had walked over to the group of Gryffindor girls, who had been joined by Granger and Weasley. They were looking our way. Were they planning an attack? I heard Granger's excited voice cry, "No, no, he's dressed like Wolfram! He looks perfect! He's even got the gold edging!" The other girls, dressed like psychedelically inspired rainbows, turned in mass to look at me. I hated it when a group of Gryffindors just _stared_ at a person. It was creepy. Creepier than Parkinson's futile attempts to flirt with me in third year.

"Potter," I said quietly out of the corner of my mouth. "Back up slowly…your friends are planning something." I turned and slipped around the column, looking for a dark recess from which I could plan a counter offense.

At finding a suitable dark and mysterious place to lurk, which turned out to be a poorly lit corner situated behind an absurdly large gourd, I paused to regroup. My forces consisted of myself and Potter. But as he was the Boy Wonder and I was a Malfoy, I figured our army actually had the advantage. I yanked him backwards into the recess and glared him into silence.

A quick glance around the corner revealed that the group hadn't followed me. For now. But, that didn't mean they weren't planning something. At least their glittery costumes would be easy to spot if they attempted to hunt us down.

"Potter, what are your friends planning?"

He turned to look behind us. "Well, it looks like Lavender and Parvati are trying to get Seamus and Ron to dance with them, and Hermione is laughing because Ron's a lost cause."

"Someone actually wants to dance with Finnigan? They must be more disturbed than he is! Did you _see_ his costume?" I smirked.

"Oh…well…yeah, It's unique. So, Draco, what are you supposed to be?" Potter whispered, and it might have been a lapse of my imagination or something, but he seemed to be leaning towards me and staring rather intently at the lower half of my mouth. I struggled to keep my eyes from wandering down to his bare chest. Whoever dressed him should be ashamed for taking advantage of such a dull witted boy. Why, _anyone_ could just grope him and Potter would be too nice to stop them!

"I am dressed as one of the most famous warrior wizards of all time. An ancestor of mine, and of course, _you_ being raised by half brained muggles as you were, would have no idea who I am referring to," I replied in a patronizing tone. My usual certainty of genetic superiority helped me rise above the insignificant distraction of a tanned boy with no shirt. He laughed and began fidgeting with the slender straps wrapped around his chest. I mentally cursed my eyes! Why did they have to refuse to obey me **now** of all times?

"Sorry," he said in a shy voice. "I think I managed to get the straps messed up again. This costume came with a shirt, but Hermione insisted that no shirt was better." Pumpkin juice spilled from his cup as he tried to untwist the thin leather with one hand.

"Here." I sighed and began picking carefully at the twisted material with slender fingers. It was not too difficult and I soon had it lying flat against his smooth chest. I gave it a pat in triumph.

"Draco?" Potter's voice came inches away from my ear, husky and warm.

"Mmm?" I couldn't stop myself from playing with the other straps wrapped around his body, but just to make sure they weren't going to fall down, of course.

There was a gust of soft air on the side of my face and I felt his hair brush my forehead. It was softer than I would have thought. He began trailing hot kisses along my neck and I shuddered and gave a small gasp of surprise or possibly outrage. Truthfully, even I wasn't quite sure. He chuckled and pulled the lobe of my ear into his mouth and began nibbling. With his head buried in my neck and his body almost touching mine, I realized there was something wrong with this situation.

A quick yank on the strap in my hand brought his chest flush against my own. Much better. Now all that warm, golden skin was mine. I slipped one arm around his shoulders letting my fingers just barely brush his skin, which caused small shudders to ripple down his body. He rubbed one of his legs between mine as he nuzzled the side of my neck like a kitten.

"Oh, god…Draco," he breathed, sounding not kitten-like at all. He gave an experimental nip on my lips before kissing me fully. His mouth was hot and electric and I opened my mouth in shock to say 'no' or perhaps 'yes', but he thrust his tongue in before I could respond.

He searched my mouth frantically and I responded by flicking my own tongue against his. He groaned into my mouth and crushed his lips against mine, his tongue wet and demanding. I ran my hand along the strong lines of his back, feeling the muscles bunch under his warm skin. He pulled me closer, and I felt a hard heat pushing against my thigh.

I shuddered in his arms.

"My, my, Hogwart's hasn't changed a bit. Two strapping boys going at it in a dark corner. Brings back _so_ many memories."

A smooth voice came from the direction of the entry. I pulled back and looked up to see a man with long, pale hair leaning casually on his walking stick. I tried to focus on the figure. Surely I couldn't be seeing what I thought I was seeing.

"F-Father?" I stammered. But he was supposed to be in Azkaban!

"But you're supposed to be in Azkaban!"

"Draco…" His light eyes flickered between Potter and me.

"What on earth are you doing with that…person?" Lucius eyed Potter with disdain, before a blank mask of neutrality flickered into place over his pale features.

Great.

The school year just seemed to get better and better.

* * *

A/N

Draco is (unwittingly) dressed like Wolfram, a character from Kyo Kara Maoh. Great anime series!

Costumes (Draco's pov isn't always a realistic depiction of the events) ;)

Seamus Finnigan is a sailor – he's in the Naaavvvvy!

Justin Finch-Fletchley is sporting a super man costume, fake pecks (and cup!) and all.


	18. Lucius Malfoy

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 18. Lucius Malfoy (and Assorted Weasleys!)**_

* * *

"_What on earth are you doing with that…person?"_

"Me? I'm not doing anything," I stammered hastily while trying to slide away from the other boy. Potter snuck an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him while muttering something under his breath about _'evil blonde gits'_. Bother. Why must Gryffindors be _so_ stupid? A speculative gleam appeared in father's eyes.

"Dear me. I didn't…interrupt, did I?" Father murmured, innocent as fresh fallen snow, while stroking the tip of his snake headed cane. His movements were languid and measured, with that same studied grace he applied to every task.

I could almost _hear_ the cogs turning in his brain, and it wasn't a pretty thing. He was imagining punishing me for slumming with Potter. I could tell. I recognized the crazy gleam that had appeared in his eyes at the thought of blood and torture. (i.e. 'foreplay'.)

"What are you doing here? They let you out? This is insane!" Potter growled while pushing himself in front of me. Idiot. Potter's emotions were written all over his face. A demonstrative boy like him was easy pickings for my father!

"Well…" Lucius breathed out, a seemingly pleasant smile spreading over his aristocratic features. The expression just seemed so wrong for my father. 'Pleasant' and 'Lucius Malfoy' just do _not_ mix well. "I was released for what I believe would be deemed…_good behavior_. It seems that the ministry is now trying to show us the kinder and gentler side of governance."

_Well, wasn't this just spectacular! _Silence stretched between the three of us, the unsaid questions and accusations hanging like ripe fruit just within our reach and yet a hairbreadth away.

I broke the silence first. "It's good to see you father." The expected welcome felt forced and rough coming from my now parched throat. My left eye twitched as I spoke. Father zeroed in on the weakness like a Weasley at a flea market. His smile widened.

"But, of course," he replied while eyeing me in a calculating manner. "It seems as though you have forgotten much while I have been away." He made it sound as if he'd been off on a holiday in the family resort at Barcelona instead of incarcerated!

Potter interrupted in a low voice. "They let _you_ out for _good behavior_? This is ridiculous!" He was still standing protectively in front of me. What? Did he think father was going to grab me and start spanking me in the middle of the party? Double Idiot! Malfoys save our spankings for private time!

"Tsk, tsk, you uncouth, half-dressed warrior," father replied, his eyes flickering over the boys body lecherously. The fine hairs on my arms stood at attention at the threat implied by my perverted father's interest in Potter. "I've been given _muggle_ therapy, one of those _delightful_ kinder and gentler initiatives I mentioned. I am, as the _charming _muggle therapist said, completely rehabilitated."

This was just perfect! I'd even written to the Ministry when sending them the incriminating evidence. I _told_ them they could never trust a Malfoy, but did they listen to me? No! Of course, maybe advice from a Malfoy about a Malfoy's wasn't to be trusted either, but that was a tiny issue! Nothing to worry their microscopic brains about!

And as to how Father had qualified for good behavior, there was no doubt about that. He probably had just batted his eyes at that _muggle _therapist (who I had added to my rather long list of 'People I should torture for the rest of eternity', right behind Nott and the Ministry…) who had probably fallen hands over heels to get Father out of Azkaban.

"But you're a death eater!" Potter shouted.

"Oh, that? Peer pressure."

"_Peer pressure_?" Potter gave a gasping reply.

"I wanted to fit in, make friends, be accepted. I'm _sure_ you understand."

"B-but torturing muggles and killing people and-" Potter stuttered. The poor Gryffindor looked completely frazzled.

"I know. Isn't it so tragic? I just wanted to be accepted and fell in with such a _bad_ crowd." Lucius gave us both the patented Malfoy smirk. "Isn't it _nice_ that I'm all better now?" He casually flicked a long strand of his silky hair over one shoulder while eyeing Potter in a predatory manner. Shoot! Potter was emotional, needy, easily manipulated, stubborn and completely adorable. My father would eat him alive.

Seeing the situation deteriorating quickly, I nudged Potter aside so I could stare fully at my father. "This _bad crowd _you're talking about…amazing how one can be lead about by one's underlings, isn't it?" I insinuated, my smile just bordering on insubordinate.

Father narrowed his eyes. "Draco, I would like a word with you in private," he said in a steely voice. It was not a request and we both knew it.

"Draco isn't going anywhere with you!" Potter interrupted vehemently. I turned to look at him, surprised that he was standing up to my father. Potter's green eyes were flashing and he had a determined look on his face. This was the look he had when he played Quidditch. He never let anything stand in his way then and he _always_ won.

Father's nostrils flared slightly before a calm mask slipped over his features. "Indeed." He pulled back from us, his face now unreadable. "Then, if you will excuse me, I must pay my respects to that old fool," he countered in a low voice.

He was leaving without having a talk with me? But, Lucius Malfoy _never_ backed down. Potter. Potter was in his way. It's hard to discipline one's son when the hero of the world is hanging onto him.

"_What_ old fool?" Potter growled. I had to admit that the growl was kind of sexy. Our _second_ kiss would probably have occurred weeks before if he'd growled at me like that!

"My rehabilitation must have caused a flashback. Terribly sorry," Father purred. He was rather like a well-bred, white cat with sharp silver eyes and even sharper claws. "I was, of course, referring to our esteemed Headmaster."

"_Flashback_?" Potter asked incredulously.

Rather than answer, the blond man gave him another polished smile. "However, as the old foo- as Dumbledore is not in sight, I believe I'll first reacquaint myself with the student…body. Hogwarts _is_ my new home, after all."

"Your new home?" I managed to squeak out while my heart tried to say goodbye to this cruel world by lurching sideways into my ribcage.

"Why yes, it seems with my assets frozen and you _know_ how your mother is…well, dear old Dumbledore has kindly allowed me refuge here. He became most teary eyed when I explained how I longed to be reunited with my darling son." Lucius again gave me an arctic look, much at odds with being called a 'darling' anything.

He then turned in a flash of dark robes and long white hair to slink his way through the crowd. Surveying the room as if he were a king facing his court, he joined a group of older Slytherin students who looked like Père Noel had come early.

"Draco, it's going to be okay. I'm here with you," Potter whispered to me in a warm voice.

"I can handle this," I replied coolly, "Besides, you idiot, it's not me who should be worried! Look at you!" I gestured at his torso.

"What's wrong with my costume? Sure, it's a little revealing, but Hermione assured me that it would do the trick!"

"You moron! You didn't even notice that awful Hufflepuff trying to pick you up! And, now with my father here…" I trailed off as I tried to give voice to the rapid worry taking shape in my mind.

His blank look spurred me on and I continued, "Look, if you're alone with him, you can run. You don't have to stay and be a brave Gryffindor…you just run, okay?"

"You're afraid he'll attack me in Hogwarts?" He blinked at me owlishly.

"No, listen," I lowered my voice, "you may not realize this, but my father sort of likes…certain types of…boys. If they remind him of…well, anyway, I think you might be his type." Saying this was difficult, for it was a shameful secret. My face felt prickly and uncomfortable.

"Draco..." The boy in front of me smiled and took my hand in a warm, comforting hold. "You don't have to worry about me."

"You're too trusting."

"No. I'm not." He gave my fingers a squeeze with his warm hand, his thumb drawing light circles against my palm. I pushed a fringe of my hair behind one ear and looked into his bright green eyes in confusion. Why did his presence seem to cause my heart to jackhammer like this _still_? It was only Potter. I should be focused on Lucius' return, not some boy! I frowned. He smiled.

"George!"

I turned. The Weasley twins were a few feet away, lanky bodies entwined. Were they fighting? I focused on them and grasped Potter's hand more firmly. After all, we may need to run for safety. Potter _was_ dressed like a sex slave. I couldn't trust anyone around here, especially not those horny twins!

"Oh Fred, kiss me!" The twin who spoke had called his brother 'Fred', that meant he was George. I was beginning to be able to tell them apart! I didn't know whether that thought should horrify me or whether I should be praising myself for my almost impossible achievement.

"No, George, you kiss me!"

"Guys! Stop doing that! You've been acting weird for days now!" Potter admonished, his voice cracking slightly. Thank you Potter!

"Oh, didn't see you both there," George replied, sounding decidedly unrepentant. He wiggled out of his brother's embrace. For some reason, he was wearing a large green leaf wrapped around his privates and ONLY a large green leaf. Fred was slightly more covered, sporting three large green leafs, but it was still much more freckled skin than I had ever wanted to see!

"Why are you naked?" I asked in irritation.

"Oh, this? We're Adam and Eve." The red head wrapped his arm around his brother. They beamed brilliant white smiles and then began posing for us. I shuddered as new and decidedly unattractive body angles were revealed.

"We got it from a muggle book!"

"It's bloody brilliant!" Fred assured us.

"We found out about it at a thing called a Holiday Inn!"

"Got lost while researching the prototype for our _Amazing Apparating Antacid._ Ended up in some Muggle village in America."

"The American girls thought I was sexy!""

"No they didn't."

"You're just jealous."

"You know they liked me better!"

"What!" he squawked back, "_I_ got the good looks in the family!"

"With _that_ nose?"

"My nose is the best in the Weasley clan! Er…except of course for yours, Ginny…" George hastened to add as a third Weasley joined the group. Girl Weasley was looking especially ugly today due to the fact that her face was all twisted and red. Was she crying again? Girls!

"I can't believe him!" she screeched, looking at her naked brothers beseechingly, as if _they_ could help her. I snorted. Look elsewhere girly, there's nothing there than can help the likes of you!

"Who? Ginny bunny?" The twin covered by three leaves asked, wrapping his freckled arms around her shoulders. She shrugged him off. At least his name for her was appropriate; she was dressed like a big, pink bunny. The pink clashed horribly with all that red.

"First, Colin with his weird obsession with Harry and now Neville! I thought Neville would at least be safe! You know that thing about him liking Snape might be true AND he's been cheating on me with Luna!" She sniffled.

"Er…Ginny, that's rotten luck, I'm sorry…" Potter muttered in conciliation.

"Apparently, they'd been 'thrown together' a lot. Well, that settles it!" The red head slapped her fisted hand on an open palm with a decided whap. "No more boyfriends for me!"

"Ginny, it'll be okay! Maybe it's a misunderstanding?" Potter replied soothingly. I snickered. Of _course_ it was true. Neville was a Gryffindor, thus it followed that he was a pervert. But, now that I thought about it, it _was_ a possibility that I was responsible for 'throwing' the two of them together. They were always in the right place at the right time with similar dopey expressions on their faces when I needed a diversion or someone to kick.

"No, no, I'm through. It's casual, meaningless relationships for me from now on!" The girl gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

"But Ginny, those are the best kinds of relationships! I'm glad you're finally wising up, and to think, I thought you weren't a true Weasley," George crowed.

"Ah, this is bringing tears to my eyes!" I wasn't sure which was more disturbing: that Fred had said that, or that he actually appeared to be wiping away tears.

The girl gave a loud whistle, much like the one I used when calling the hellhounds at Malfoy Manor. "Dean! Seamus! My room now!" After this order, she turned and stomped out, her pink bunny tail shaking behind her. A confused looking Dean Thomas, wearing a truly atrocious purple and blue number and an excited looking Finnigan dutifully followed.

As they passed out the door behind the red headed dominatrix, Finnigan slipped one arm around his frazzled friend and grinned. "Now, Dean, mate, I think it'd be best if you were in the middle for this one."

"Er…" his friend replied, his expression slowly turning to fear as he realized what he was being lead into.

"Trust me. I'm your best mate, right?" Finnigan shot back as they exited and were lost from view.

"And they say Slytherins are sluts," I complained quietly. Potter shot me a glance from the corner of his eye and gave my hand a squeeze.

"At least there's a bright side. I don't think this night can get any stranger," he murmured softly. I shook my head at him; there were too many Gryffindors in the Great Hall for _that_ kind of optimistic sentiment. Laughter came from the other side of the room and I peered past the Weasley twins who were taking bets on the state of Thomas' virginity (apparently it was undecided as to who he would lose it to) to see my father now surrounded by a crowd of adoring Slytherins. He had one arm wrapped around Blaise Zabini and was being pawed at by Pansy Parkinson as he regaled them with what appeared to be a hilarious story.

For some reason, the scene made me feel uneasy. With father amongst them, the Slytherins' toothy smiles were now akin to grinning sharks, cavernous, ready to bite and slow to chew.

"That's it, I'm not staying any longer," I muttered to the boy next to me. The night was going to turn ugly.

"I think that's a good idea." Potter smiled and began following me to the door.

"You can stay," I muttered. "I'm sure you'll have…fun." I cast one last glare at his state of undress to let him know exactly what type of fun I thought he would be having.

After my snarky comment, I paused and frowned. The thought of him being pawed by others made me feel _angry_ for some reason.

"No, no, I think I'd better escort you back to your room," he assured me quite seriously as we passed through the door into the Entrance Hall.

"Escort? I'm fine, just look at my manly sword!" I gestured grandly at the jewel encrusted scabbard. "Of course, there is technically no actual sword involved here, but that's hardly common knowledge. Besides, you're the one who should be happy to get out of there, dressed like that."

"Ah, but I'm not as cute as you no matter what I'm dressed like," he replied with a wink.

"Huh, but _some_ people think you're cute," I scoffed while complaining about _pervy Hufflepuffs_ under my breath. Wouldn't want Potter to think I was jealous or anything. We walked the rest of the way to Slytherin in silence, but Potter behaved oddly the entire journey. First, he fidgeted. Next, he mumbled under his breath. Then came the head shaking. The last step seemed to be opening his mouth as though he was about to say something and then closing it abruptly. And then he repeated the whole sequence over again! It couldn't have just been the chill of the dungeons seeping in and causing more brain damage, could it?

"So…uh…here we are…at the door to your common room, huh?" he asked, the tips of his ears turning red. I quirked one blonde brow in response.

He coughed and then continued, "Oh, hey, I was thinking, would you like to have breakfast with me tomorrow?"

"Maybe," I replied noncommittally. There was no reason not to. With father at Hogwarts, my life was basically over.

"Ah…I was wondering…well, that is…you see tomorrow…bugger…" he trailed off, his face now rivaling the color of his ears.

"Yes?" I sighed, fighting back impatience.

"Well, then…tomorrow, shall I call you or nudge you?" Was he _threatening_ me?

"Huh? Call me _what_? And if you're going to be pushing me, I'll be responding in kind," I threatened in return.

It was his turn to sigh. "I told him that the line was too cheesy and confusing but he said it was perfect," he muttered while shaking his head.

"He who? Potter, have you been sniffing cauldrons of a flaky white and crystalline nature or something?"

"No. It's just, I guess I was wondering if you'd like to go together somewhere _private_ tonight?" His voice shook slightly and he said the last few words in a rush. Private? Did he mean _private,_ as in a room, to do more of what we had been doing back at the party? It was my turn to blush as I remembered the heated moment. The idea of doing more of that was…appealing.

This was wrong. What I was thinking was…wrong. And exciting. And even thinking it was wrong felt exciting. Blast!

I leaned back, letting the chill of the dungeon wall seep into my back to center me. I could almost taste the heat radiating from Potter, even though he was inches away and I felt a mad urge to jump onto him.

Still blushing, I averted my eyes and managed a good night before bolting inside, not caring if he heard the new password (Porkinson). I hurried through my nighttime ritual, soon lying on my bed, eyes wide and staring into the dark.

As the hours slipped by, my drunken house mates began slithering home. Father's commanding voice was among them. It sounded like they were helping him move in.

Pulling a silk covered pillow over my head to block the noise, I crawled deep under my blankets, though they offered little protection. My thoughts automatically went back to Potter. What _were_ we?

I apparently liked nothing better than being the jam in a Potter sandwich. And, to make matters more confusing, it seemed that he wanted me too. Maybe.

More humiliating, instead of feeling dread, I felt nervous and excited. All mixed up together.

What was I to do _now_? Was I expected to _change_ just because I apparently liked to snog the annoying do-gooder? Was I supposed to be nice to his annoying friends and stop tormenting first years?

Well, he'd picked the wrong Slytherin for that!

I wasn't some foolish Hufflepuff willing to change myself to win some love interest.

I groaned into the pillow and clutched it with both arms. The memory of his hot breath on my ear kept running through my mind until I finally fell asleep.

* * *

A/N 

Yes, the Weasley twins are 'Adam and Eve', or 'Adam and Steve'. ;)

Dean Thomas is sporting an approximation of a 'West Ham United' Jersey, of which he is a fan.

Humble apologies for being so late! I had a lot of trouble revising this chapter to my liking. Ah well, but the show must go on. :)


	19. Never Trust a Gryffindor!

Chapter 19.Never trust a Gryffindor!

* * *

The next morning I woke up and showered early, though I felt sluggish and out of sorts as I'd had precious little sleep.

My plan had been to leave the house long before others woke up for their general morning activities. This would ensure that I'd miss my dear father and any 'discipline' he might dish out.

After casting a quick _lumos_ and glancing into a corridor, I began to stealthily creep down the empty hall.

It was then that I noticed a door open on the left side of the corridor. Why was the door to Blaise Zabini's room open? I felt a momentary prick of responsibility as our house is not known for letting lapses go unpunished. Perhaps it would be acceptable to take a quick peek in and make sure he had not been hexed? I had a feeling that my generosity would turn tail to bite me straight in the arse but I decided to risk it. What had that Gryffindor been doing to me?

His room was messy with clothing spilling out to mix with text books and leftover snacks. The small lump in the middle of the bed was undoubtedly the boy himself. I moved to close the door before my attention was caught by an elegant walking stick looking very out of place in the adolescent room.

The snake head staff had custom scroll work and though I couldn't see it from my angle, I knew it had a latch under the chin which held a timed spell to cause nausea and disorientation as well as a tiny slot in the bottom to store one's wand.

Why was _that_ staff next to Blaise Zabini's bed?

What was _my Father's staff_ doing in a student's room?

There was a rustling sound and a messy haired Zabini scrambled from his bed to stand blinking at me. He had a toothbrush in one hand, which he raised blearily in my direction.

"Whozat?" he mumbled, disoriented and still in sleep mode.

"Blaise, what are you doing with my Father's staff?" I inquired calmly. Or as calmly as I could with the dozens of possibilities that were beginning to hatch in my head, all sicker than the first. The black haired boy moved the toothbrush before him in a zigzag pattern and seemed to recognize me as he slumped back onto his messy bed. The sheets were a wild animal print, for the love of all that was unholy! It was practically a Gryffindor bed! Of course, I doubted even Gryffindors had beds in such a tasteless shade of red. Well, maybe the Weasley twins.

"He left his staff? Oh, I'll bring it to him later." He yawned and eyed me lazily. It was an insolent look.

"That was not the question," I hissed. "What is my Father's walking staff doing in your room?" Had he hurt Zabini, thinking he was me?

"Duh. He came here last night," Blaise smirked at me and reached over to fondle the snake staff in an inappropriately familiar manner. "We had a _good_ time."

"I highly doubt you had any sort of time like that with my father."

"Oh, but we did. He's much more fun than you! Brought all of us fire whiskey, the illegal kind, and then he told us all sorts of stories about your childhood. I don't think I've ever laughed so much."

I glared down at him, wondering exactly what Lucius had said. Apparently, we were skipping the physical discipline and heading straight to psychological torture. Unfortunately, father was really good at _those_ kinds of games. Grandfather Abarax had been rather well known in the field himself. Oh mighty lord of all wizard kind and kin, please do not let him have shared the baby duckling incident!

"I'm sure you are mistaken," I replied frostily, while snaking my hand slowly towards my wand. I would have to obliviate his memory.

Although…it would be best to get the names of all the people father had told, and then obliviate _all_ of their memories.

Of course, I wasn't very good at Obliviate, being that it was a wee bit above my level, but it wasn't _my_ mind that I was playing with. I was willing to let Blaise take the risk! At least I'd be getting some practice.

"No I'm not! We all had fun, and then I found out that Lucius likes guys like me." He grinned again. I was beginning to detest that arrogant grin.

"Spare me the details."

"But don't you want to know how skilled your father is? The things that man can do with his tongue! I swear, now that I've had _that_, I'm not gonna settle for some inexperienced first year again! You might learn some things if you join in too…"

Blaise sleeps with _first year students_? Wait…did he just invite me to sleep with him along with my father? I could feel the bile rising and that gagging, choking feeling beginning to invade my throat.

"I don't want to hear this!"

"But you should know! You were my first really big crush, Drackie. And now that I've had the man who looks just like you, talks just like you, tastes just like you, it's like I've had _you_. You and your dad are basically the same person." he uttered in a snide tone before standing and stretching.

I turned and escaped before I could hear more. I was moving at such a great speed that corridors and stairs flew by in a blur, paintings becoming oblong bits of color in an all gray world.

"_You and your dad are basically the same person."_

Lowering my head, I dashed the back of my hand against my eyes. I would not cry. I was a Malfoy. I would not cry! In my haste to climb the stairs, I tripped and rolled several times before landing on my back. I was in a hallway near a statue. _Boris the Bewildered. _Only the Gryffindors would have a statue like that. An idiot with no fashion sense and basically no clue was practically their role model! I slowed my steps, feeling out of breath and thoroughly winded.

"_I've had the man who looks just like you, talks just like you, tastes just like you, it's like I've had **you**." _

I hunched my shoulders as if I could protect myself from the pain, feeling tears well up. No! I would not cry! I closed my eyes and started running again.

Down the corridor, up the stairs and on and on and on.

Maybe I could run until Hogwarts ended and my pathetic existence could end with it?

Unfortunately, instead of the happy release of death, I ran headlong into a wall.

"If you don't mind!" a high pitched voice admonished from above. There was a painting of an enormous woman in some sort of pink tent looming over my sprawled form. I wanted to respond to her in my usual manner, but Blaise's voice was still ringing in my head. Instead of spewing my customary insults, I felt my lower lip tremble as I gazed up at her.

The fat hag in the painting visibly softened and leaned towards me. She reminded me of a pig in a curly wig.

"Now, now deary, there's no reason to look like that. Sweetie, you'll get your face all messy if you scrunch it up!" she murmured soothingly, but for some reason, it made me feel worse to have someone paying attention. I sniffled in response and drew my legs up to my chest, not bothering to get up from the cold floor.

"You just hold on one second, deary, there are some people in the common room right now," the pig in the wig assured me in that same soothing tone. I didn't respond, staring resolutely at the ground. With a flicker, she was gone from her painting.

For some reason, my father's admonition from long ago rang through my mind: "_A Malfoy never sits on floors."_ I had been four at the time, and yet I remembered it clearly. I had scrambled up on my sturdy little legs and never sat on floors to play again.

Today, however, I remained slumped on the floor as the fat lady returned to coo down at me before a door swung open. There was a rustle of dark robes and penny loafers.

"Oh, Draco, what are you doing here?"

"So that's the angel the fat lady was talking about!"

It was Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Normally I would glare at them and edge away lest I catch some strange Gryffindor disease. Instead, I gave a quiet hiccup and felt something warm trickle down my cheek. Why was I bereft of everything and now left in front of the Gryffindor dormitory like an orphan?

"Draco, are you crying?" Parvati asked, her dark eyes widening.

"No," I muttered, wiping the back of my hand against my eyes again, "I just need…" my voice trailed off and I sat confused. I felt my lower lip tremble again and another wave of sadness welled up in my chest.

"Let's get you off of the floor," Lavender ordered and the girls grabbed my arms to help me to my feet.

"The common room?" Parvati hissed at the girl across from her who shook her head and appeared to be thinking. The girls lead me through a room with disgustingly squishy couches before we climbed unsafe looking stairs.

"No, it's just that I need…" I began again, my voice low and hoarse with blocked tears. What could I possibly need in Gryffindor territory?

Potter. Potter had said I didn't look like my father. I would find him and force him to tell me that over and over. And then I'd make him give me another backrub and he could make this horrible morning just disappear. That's what heroes do. "Take me to Potter."

"Of course!" The blonde giggled while sending a look at her friend. We passed through a doorway, at which they paused and muttered a few words before we arrived in a large circular room with beds situated at regular intervals. Lavender shoved me onto the too soft mattress before holding a hushed conversation with Parvati. I looked around and noticed there was a ceramic unicorn on the table next to me. A hideous looking pink unicorn. It winked at me.

"This is a girl's room. Where's Potter?" I asked tiredly. Feeling emotions when you're not used to them is exhausting.

"We're sending someone to get him. Girls can't go into the boy's dorms," Lavender answered, smiling sweetly. The airy room, combined with the overabundance of pink, was making me feel decidedly off kilter. It was all too…bright and pink.

"Oh," I murmured quietly, while trying to stop sniffling. The girls sat on each side of me, their weight causing the bed to shift slightly under us. We sat in silence for a moment.

"So…" Parvati began while eyeing Lavender across from me.

"Hmmm…." Lavender replied.

I sniffled.

"Draco, wow, you have really long eyelashes," the blonde girl squeaked. I looked at her and gave a small hiccup.

"You know what would be great? Mascara!" Parvati exclaimed.

"You're right, just look at those lashes! And, then maybe some glitter for his cheeks!" Lavender squealed in reply.

"Ooh Glitter! Yes, let's use the makeup kit that Hermione got me from that Muggle shop! What fun!" The Patil girl hopped from the bed before returning with a shiny box. It had _butterflies_ on the cover. _Sparkling_ butterflies.

Before I could scream "Unhand me you Psychos!", my face was being gently dabbed at with brushes and fingers. It was rather like a massage for the face and I found it to be almost soothing. The girls were moving onto something called lip liner when the blankets on the bed across from us shifted and sat up. It might have been all the cooing and squealing that the two girls were doing that had woken up the room's other occupant. The figure stood and a girl in plaid pajamas with her brown hair in braids turned in our direction. She had a disgruntled look on her face.

It was Granger. I gave her a quick look and would have smirked if my lips weren't currently being smeared with lip gloss. I should have known it was Granger's bed! No pink unicorns for her, instead there was a pile of moldy books on _her_ bedside table.

"What are you two doing?" Granger asked in a suspicious voice.

"Nothing!" The two girls replied in identical singsong voices. As my lips were now free I was able to give a sigh and let out a long held in sniffle.

"Ma - Draco…what are you…?" Granger began and then did a double take. "You don't look like yourself, is something wrong?" The concern in her voice felt real and instead of responding with disdain, I felt my features scrunch as I tried not to cry again. I blinked rapidly.

"No! You'll get the mascara messed up if you do that!" Lavender admonished.

"Shut up you idiots!" Granger commanded. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"They said they were getting Potter," I replied in a small sounding voice.

Granger _tsked_ under her breath and efficiently scattered the two girls. She then led me away further into the wretched bowels of the Gryffindor Tower. We passed a few early risers who edged themselves back against the wall at the sight of me. I must have looked unusually intimidating today.

Granger gave a quick knock on a large wooden door and then poked her head in. She motioned me past and we found ourselves in a dark room. It was also a large and circular room, but shadowed due to the fact that the drapes were still drawn.

She walked quickly over to the bed nearest us and shook the sleeping figure.

"Harry!" she hissed down scarily while giving the person another efficient shake. I followed at her heels like the puppy I apparently am and glanced down. It was Potter. He was sleeping, with one hand curled under the side of his face.

"But they said girls couldn't get into the boy's room," I hissed at Granger. For a moment, shame flickered across her features.

"Well, there are ways around and… I had to be able to help Harry…just in case," she replied, sounding flustered, before shoving Potter again rather roughly. This time he sat up and rubbed blearily at his eyes. His sleeping apparel was a ribbed grey tank and shorts that were frayed at the end. He looked so soft and comfortable, that I couldn't think of any derisive comments about his lack of fashion sense. Granger efficiently handed him his glasses.

"Hermione? Is something…Draco what are you doing here?" Potter asked groggily, his eyes now catching sight of me. I pushed past Granger and climbed under the covers next to him, hiding my face in his chest. The soft ribbing of his top was just as comfortable as it looked.

"There, there." he said reassuringly while patting me on the back and as the warmth of the bed and his body began to permeate my cold figure, I relaxed. He muttered something to Granger and I heard him draw the curtains around the bed, before he pulled me back into his arms. I snuggled in, now resting my head under his chin.

"What happened?" he whispered into my ear gently.

"Father."

"Did he hit you?" Potter tightened his arms around me.

"No. Worse. He's been telling people…things. Personal, embarrassing things, I think. And...he and Blaise Zabini, well, they…" I shuddered and found I couldn't speak anymore.

"It's okay, take your time," the other boy said while pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. It kind of tickled, so I squirmed against him and gave him a disgruntled look.

"Blaise said it was like _having_ me," I breathed out harshly. I had a sore throat and my eyes were so dry they burned. "Shagging my father. Like he'd shagged _me_ because we're…the same. Look the same, talk the same, _are_ the same."

"Draco…."

It was now or never. I kept my eyes focused on his shirt. "Is that true?"

"What?"

"That we're the same?"

"No!" he said earnestly.

I sniffled again.

"Draco, you're the most unique person I know. You have this world view that no one else could ever have and…you make me laugh and happy and hopeful about the future and sure, I get exasperated with you sometimes, but that's all part of you."

"I'm unique because I'm _exasperating_?"

"No, it's…well…did you know, I used to think I was like Voldemort? That deep down we were the same?"

"But that's ridiculous Potter," I replied with strength now returning to my voice, "Anyone with a half a knut in their brain just has to look at you and see that you're nothing like that scaly freak."

He smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. "And anyone with less than a single brain cell can see that you're not your father." I nodded slowly, his words already beginning to spread a calm feeling through my body. Truthfully, I'd been feeling much better since I'd felt his ribbed shirt against my face and his arms around me, but I probably shouldn't let him know it. That kind of power could be used against me.

I smiled hesitantly at Potter, as he had been eyeing me with a worried expression. He returned my smile with one of his own. I snuggled happily against him, the hurt and confused whirl of emotions now unable to penetrate the cotton wool of kind words wrapped firmly around me. A Potteras '_an acquaintance who I might want to snog_' was a very useful thing to have!

Suddenly I was rolled onto my back and Potter raised himself on his forearms as he studied my face.

"Draco… are you wearing makeup?"

"Oh..." I felt a blush begin and eyed the area past Potter's right ear with interest, "Er…the girls…said they were getting you, but they lied and put this gunk on me."

"Why are your lips so shiny?"

"Lip gloss."

He leaned forward and groaned, his voice now sounding pained. "It smells like strawberries."

"It's strawberry flavored. But between you and me, I tasted some, and it wasn't at all like a strawberry. Muggles are _so_ inept."

"I'm sorry Draco, but I'm going to have to taste it for myself." He leaned forward and flicked his tongue along the outside of my lips before he began lapping at my mouth as if he were a cat at a bowl of cream. The light brushes of tongue were maddening, so I stopped him by pressing my lips firmly against his, twining one hand through his soft hair.

He lowered himself and thrust his tongue into my mouth, beginning a slow circle of the newly conquered territory. It was as if he wanted to taste every inch of my mouth. I flicked my tongue against the invading force and we began a fight for dominance, our mouths hot and demanding. I thought I was going to win, because he was groaning quite a bit, but then he fought dirty. He pulled back and started kissing down the side of my neck, which made me tremble and wiggle under him. Slipping one hand down the front of my shirt, he began sucking his way towards my chest while working at a button.

It was all lips and hot hands and that muscular body pressing me down into the mattress as if he were trying to meld me with the sheets.

He ground down on me with his hips, which sent me bucking and grabbing at him with frenzied hands trying to worm their way under his shirt. His nearness made me feel weak and energized at the same time and I pulled his mouth back to mine, wanting to feel the heat of his breath and lips again.

It was then that I heard the munching sound.

I turned to see Finnigan just off the edge of Potter's bed, an apple in hand.

He took another bite, his eyes trained on us. "Don't mind me."

Potter stopped abruptly, crawling off the bed and leveling a disgruntled sigh at the Irish boy. The bespectacled boy pushed a hand through his wild hair and leaned down to help me up. "I knew I should have put an Immobulus charm on the bed curtains."

"I doubt it would have worked," I drawled in reply. "Perverts have a way of slithering past defenses."

"Maybe, but you'd think a Gryffindor and a Slytherin working together could think of _something_."

"Why, Potter, is that a smirk?"

"But I'm a Gryffindor! We never smirk!" he gasped in mock horror, his hand going to his chest.

I laughed and replied, "True, true, I simply must be mistaken!"

"Hey Draco?" He turned to me with a charming smile.

"Mmm?"

"You did say you'd eat breakfast with me, didn't you?" His tone was teasing, but there was a definite challenge there.

"Well, I am starving," I demurred.

"It's a date then!" he said happily as he rummaged in the trunk at the end of his bed.

"But I simply must get this wretched goo off! The Gryffindor House does have running water, does it not ? It's so hard to tell when I look at…certain members." I sneered at Finnigan, who was now following a blushing Dean Thomas. What _had_ they done last night with the girl Weasley?

"Yes, I'll take you …though Draco, if we eat breakfast together, where on earth would we sit?" Potter asked as he stood with a towel in hand, looking uncertain.

I smirked as I followed him to what I hoped was an actual bathroom and not a hole in the ground. "I'm sure a Gryffindor and a Slytherin working together can think of something."

And, we did. The Ravenclaw table. My vote for the Head table next to Professor Snape was shot down. I thought sitting at the Head table and pretending we belonged there would be just fine, It's all about attitude after all! And I had enough in case Potter lacked it. I managed to negate Potter's _brilliant_ idea of the Hufflepuff table, probably right next to his 'buddy' Finch-Fletchly.

The only remaining dark mark on my morning is the sad fact that mascara does not wash off with water.

I'm sure no one will notice.

And if they do, well that's what hexes and Potters are for!


	20. The Ferret King

Chapter 20. The Undisputed Champion – or Draco Malfoy, _The Ferret King._

* * *

Ravenclaws are the most annoying creatures on the planet. 

Their first sin is their choice of breakfast conversation. They choose books _not even assigned for reading_ as their topic of choice while completely ignoring helpful conversation forays suggested by _others_ in their midst about hair care and the effects of inbreeding on Hufflepuffs.

Secondly, they _study_ during breakfast! Breakfast! Clearly the morning hours are a time to be spent guzzling coffee and hexing anyone who seems a little _too_ chipper. Anyone acting cheerful in the morning has obviously woken on the wrong side of the bed. In those cases, hexing is an act of _mercy_.

Though, seeing all the diligent little Ravenclaws studying around me was making me feel rather annoyingly _twitchy_. I _knew _I didn't need to study, and yet I now wanted to open my potions book and renew my acquaintance with yesterday's class material, just in case.

I probably would have, but I was busy holding hands against my will.

With Potter.

As if we were fumbling third years with _crushes_ on each other! There were definitely _titters_ aimed my way from the Slytherin table, but it wasn't as if I could deny anything. Standing in the middle of the Great Hall and shouting that we weren't _really_ holding hands, but that Potter had grabbed me because I'd been trying to hex Loony Luna wasn't a very Slytherin option.

She'd started it! Looking at me with those big, blank eyes of hers and daring to _thank_ me for helping her and Lardbottom realize their 'true love', destined by the oracle of 'sheboygan' or some such mythical place.

I couldn't be blamed for going for my wand!

"Would you like a bite?" Potter asked, waving a revolting looking red vegetable at me. Fried tomatoes for breakfast were _not_ my thing.

"I'm quite happy with my croissant."

He gave me a shy smile, his eyes bright in the shimmering morning air. Yes, Potter was definitely one of those dreadful 'morning people', and yet… He'd helped me this morning, _again_. I felt my eyes soften as I looked at him.

He rubbed his face against my hand affectionately before going back to his overloaded plate. My breakfast no longer seemed as interesting.

His fleeting touch had left me feeling slightly dazed. Who knew breakfast could be so sensual? I spent the rest of the meal surreptitiously watching him. His steady movements as he cut through a piece of ham, the bunching of muscles in his jaw as he chewed, the long lines of his throat moving as he swallowed. It was unnervingly riveting.

He licked the edge of a piece of sausage and I found breathing to be a bit more difficult. Now really, that act ought to be illegal in public.

"Draco? Ready to go?"

Pulled from a daydream involving Potter, me, breakfast and an empty hall, I realized the meal was over.

"Of course! I wasn't the one eating enough for a family of Weasleys."

"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find some way for me to work it off," he winked. Stupid sexy green eyes.

"You'd have to work up _quite_ a sweat."

"Well, you could always help me with that tonight," he suggested, bringing our clasped hands to his mouth again to rub his lips gently across my fingers. It was an odd gesture, almost courtly.

I would have replied, but I was busy hoping he wouldn't stop that ever. Also, he obviously should then continue on from my hands onto _other_ areas.

"We should hurry." He abruptly stopped his ministrations, dragging me out of the Great Hall. "If we want to make it before class starts."

"Hurry _where_ exactly?" I asked suspiciously.

"Dumbledore."

I scowled, "You are such a tattle! I didn't _really_ hex Lovegood!"

He laughed, "No, _we_ are going to see Dumbledore about your father. He's dangerous…he might hurt you, and I won't allow that."

"You're going to Dumbledore for me?" I was surprised, and it showed.

He blushed, but his eyes were steady on mine, "Of course…and there is a danger to the other students as well."

"Oh."

Was his action for me or the other students? Where did I really stand with this strange boy?

But still, I couldn't contain a feeling of glee. With the Boy Who Lived against my father, surely he would soon be gone! Dumbledore always played favorites, so I knew he'd listen to his Golden Boy!

* * *

"Stupid Dumbledore," I grumbled as we walked away moments later. 

Potter didn't argue. He was too busy scowling like a thundercloud at our surroundings. This was probably the first time he hadn't gotten his way with the potty geezer. After trying reason (an endeavor I knew was doomed to failure), he'd tried cajoling, threats and then moved on to yelling. I'd never seen anyone yell at Dumbledore, but Potter hadn't held back. His angry shouts had made the paintings rattle. I almost wondered if we should let father stay for a while longer. Seeing Potter get so angry was kind of sexy.

Dumbledore had seemed unmoved by our arguments, his expression set firmly on smiling, twinkling glee. It was obviously that the lights were on (and swinging about gaily), but no one was home!

The geezer's only response to our argument was to assure us over and over that Lucius Malfoy had paid his debt to society. And, as for the inappropriate situation of an adult rooming with students, well, there was no improper situation at all!

You see, Potter and I had it all wrong. We're excitable young men. _Of course,_ we had leapt to the wrong conclusion.

Father wasn't actually _in_ the dorms. No, he was settled in his own private suite once held by an old head of Slytherin. The head had apparently had a much more _personal_ interest in the students than our current Professor Snape.

As father's suite was not in the Slytherin House at all (it was merely accessible by going through the Slytherin common room), Dumbledore was quite sure we could see the difference.

Potter's shouts made it quite clear that we did not.

* * *

After he'd calmed down from our confrontation with the old coot, it seemed only natural to let him help me with my books and walk me to class. After all, Gryffindors and Slytherins shared the next class: C_are of Magical Creatures_. 

It felt strange, walking together toward the group. It wasn't that it felt unnatural, but that being next to him felt _right_. Well, if one ignored the pervading stench of goodness that followed Potter around like a puppy.

A few of the Slytherins visibly fidgeted as we approached: Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini most noticeably. Nott, of course, was a given. Zabini…probably hadn't gotten in enough taunts about the supposed relationship he thought he had with my father. However, as I was knee deep in the forest of dorkhood that is the Gryffindors, neither made a sound.

After ordering Potter to unpack our class supplies, a new plot began to form in my quick and able mind. It was _very_ surprising that I hadn't been taunted yet. My house was like a pack of guinea pigs at the sight of food when presented which juicy new gossip.

Perhaps I had been looking at the 'Potter situation' all wrong? After all, he had effectively silenced my father last night, no easy task especially if the mouthy git has been into his wine. And, it appeared that he and his Gryffindor posse were a bit _intimidating_ to other Slytherins. I had no idea why. No matter how many lumbering fools surrounded Potter, it had never stopped me from telling him what I thought!

I pondered the situation. Not only was Potter undoubtedly hot and good at kissing, but apparently he had a magical ability to protect others from annoyances.

"Come on little guy, it'll be okay," Potter, whispered soothingly while squatting above a dirty looking hole in the ground. I'd chosen to sit on a rock nearby. I was supposedly checking under my nails for any potential dirt, but really I was hoping his shirt would keep riding up.

"Sod off!" The hole yelled back. I snickered. I was beginning to warm up to the jarvey we'd been tasked with feeding.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Potter soothed, "Here, come get the tasty carrot." He waved an orange _thing_ over the hole. I'd refused to touch our jarvey supplies for good reason. Who knew what that thing was?

"It's not a carrot, mate," Weasley interrupted, his dirt smeared head appearing over a bush.

"What?" Potter asked with a rather adorable confused expression on his face.

"I tasted it. It's bloody awful." Weasley made a face before he continued, "Some kinda disgusting vegetable, but _not_ a carrot."

"Honestly Ronald, don't you read?" Granger began, her head popping up next to his. "Jarveys are carnivores." She had a large twig sticking out of the left side of her bushy hair. I snickered.

Weasley gagged at the new discovery and Granger and he thankfully disappeared from view. My snickers turned into full blown laughter.

Honestly, if I'd known hanging out with Gryffindors was so much more fun than watching them behave like idiots from afar, I'd have switched sides long ago! You couldn't pay for this kind of entertainment! I mean, come on, who tries to _eat_ Jarvey Jerky?

"You mean this is a dried animal?" Potter asked with a disgusted look on his face while eyeing the wrinkled orange jerky in his hand.

"Yep! A jarvey's main source of food is Gnome. That's probably a leg or an arm," I responded happily. "You should check it for little fingers."

"Oh," he muttered in resignation before squaring his shoulders, "well, here, jarvey, jarvey, come get your meat…thing." He waved the orange object in front of the hole again.

"Buggers yerself n' die!" The hole responded.

I laughed again. "I like it!"

"Poof!" The hole shot back.

I froze. Did the jarvey just insult _ME?_ The furry little freak _dared_?

"What did you say?" I responded in a calm voice.

"Ye heard mes! Yer a poofs!" The hole echoed back.

"Come up here and say that to my face!"

"Don'needs t'. Voice like girl's."

"Well, this _voice like girl's_ used your mother to make himself slippers last night! Suck on that and die, you furry freak!"

"Pffft…." The hole replied, "Ma's not caught."

"Oh really? Well, it was too bad the slippers were too scraggly and ugly to use anyway. Jarvey fur is just too _common_."

I could just now barely make out a bright eye peaking out from the hole now, glittering at me with anger. "Fairy," the jarvey responded as it crept closer.

"Ill covered boot rack."

"Pasty face!"

It then began: a battle of insults and taunts of such an epic proportion that the earth titled on its very axis and tried to run and hide behind the sun. Our taunts hit true, ripping apart lineage, species, hygiene and sexuality. No flaw was left untapped and no quirk was left unexplored.

I knew I was the victor when the jarvey had succumbed to incoherent babbling. I pounced.

"Oooh…is that the best you can do? And here I thought furry little maggot food like yourself actually had half a brain, but that's what you get when your father was a tosser."

The bright eye clearly visible in the dirt hole regarded me silently.

"Well?" I hissed at it, while elbowing Potter. He'd covered his face in horror halfway through the exchange. Sissy. The furry creature crawled out of the hole and sat hunched in the dirt. It was actually not a bad looking creature, with thick brown fur and attractive black lines running down its face. The animal gave a strange little jerk down to the ground, nose touching the dirt.

"Yous win." it muttered.

I sauntered over to my rock to revel in my triumph.

"I can't believe you just won an insult contest with a ferret!" Potter sounded horrified. I ignored him and buffed my nails on my robe. A victory was a victory.

Potter muttered something under his breath and turned to offer the animal food again. "Here you go, poor lil' guy," he said with sickening concern in his voice.

"Sod off, fours eyes!" the jarvey replied, baring his teeth at Potter in a menacing fashion before grabbing the jerky. Potter reached down to pat him on the head, but the creature drew back, whiskers trembling and snapped at his hand with a flash of sharp teeth. I laughed delightedly.

"Listen you!" I stated imperiously at the furry creature still starling at Potter. "Do you want to be even?"

At my question, he turned a bright eye to me, cocking his small head slightly with his impetuous black nose twitching. I leaned down and began to whisper in the jarvey's ear, watching as his obvious confusion turned to a crafty delight. A feral grin stole over the tiny face.

"Notts," the jarvey parroted back at me.

"Yep, that's right. Theodore Nott."

"Isss…good, better than talksings." The jarvey chirped at me with another evil smile that made me rather proud before disappearing into a bush.

"Ummm…do I even want to know? And… have you just been made the king of ferrets or something?" Potter muttered to me.

"Jarveys, not ferrets," I replied sternly. "Jarveys are intelligent and noble creatures, not to be lumped with a mundane animal like a ferret."

"Noble? Draco, Hagrid had our essays read to the class, you wanted them hunted down!"

"Don't be stupid. That was _before_ I realized how misunderstood they truly are." I motioned authoritatively for him to follow me back to Hagrid.

"Misunderstood? They are just like the book described!" Potters voice chased after me as I sauntered away.

"No. They're misunderstood. Just like me. They are truly my brothers in arms." I was getting a bit misty eyed with emotion.

Hagrid was waiting patiently where we'd left him, and Potter turned in the rest of our equipment. We hadn't even needed the shovel _or_ the net. It was surprising that we were the only people to finish, but then Potter was the big oaf's favorite, so _our_ jarvey was undoubtedly the best of the lot. I loitered nearby, trying to look as innocent as a Malfoy possibly can while my nefarious jarvey plot was put into action.

The two began chatting about something named 'Scotty'. I hoped it was a pet of some sort, and that Hagrid hadn't actually spawned. Perish the thought!

My patience soon bore fruit though, and a scream soon cut the air. A very high pitched scream. After quite a bit of rustling through some under bushes and amidst much shouting, Theodore Nott stumbled into view. He was robe less, and there were odd bulges under his once pristinely ironed white shirt and black pants. Moving bulges.

He took a faltering step toward Hagrid and then did an odd dance, with his arms waving spastically in the air. His next step was even jerkier and he went flying down to land awkwardly in the dirt. A group of surprised looking Slytherins gathered around his twitching form and I watched with a smirk as the jarveys set to work.

First, they removed Nott's shirt by nipping quickly through the buttons. Two of them disappeared with it into the bushes.

Four of the furry creatures managed to pull off his pants. They were hampered by the fact that one jarvey was apparently stuck in a pant leg. The sight of three jarveys disappearing from view dragging behind a pair of dress pants wiggling in one particular location was quite hilarious.

The remaining jarveys ripped through his tacky silver boxers (really now, just because silver and green _are_ our colors doesn't mean one must replicate that in our under garments!) This left a naked Theodore Nott huddled on the ground, with his less than generous endowment visible for all to see.

Ha!

_Now_ Nott couldn't pretend he was God's gift to witch kind anymore!

Of course, the girly sobbing he was doing was probably ruining his chances anyway. Both Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode were looking at him with disgust.

The last jarvey turned to give me a look, his bright eyes meeting mine in understanding. It stood on its hind paws and raised on furry fore paw in salute before saying, in a rather loud voice. "Mission Underpants Notts Accomplished." I gave him a quick wink before he disappeared from sight. The class stared at each other in confusion, Harry appeared to have his head buried in his hands to stifle his laughter and I was of course, innocently looking at Nott with all the concern I could muster.

"Make way, make way," Hagrid boomed. "Hafta get 'im to Madame Pompfrey's."

I sniggered.

"I guess class is over," Potter muttered as he watched the oaf carry Nott away.

I was in high spirits as we walked back to Hogwarts, ignoring the looks Potter was still shooting me. Of course, I was also doing my best to look completely innocent.

The day was finally beginning to turn around! Barring running into my father (and really, how hard is it to avoid a six foot tall man with blonde hair down to his waist?), it seemed that nothing could spoil the day.

It was then that the horrendous rumbling noise filled the air and a black object that surely heralded our mortal doom hurtled toward us.

Students screamed and scattered while I took a hasty step to hide behind Potter. The black ball was swerving toward us faster than the eye could follow, but there did appear to be a man on top of a _machine_ of some sort. The contraption he was riding was like some sort of miniature train that one could straddle like a horse.

The stranger zoomed across the grass, just barely missing two trees and one thick set third year Hufflepuff. With an impressive looking twist of his upper torso, he turned the machine about, abruptly slammed to a halt at our feet. The machine rumbled at us like some large cat.

The stranger nodded to us, his face hidden under a dark helmet, and Potter grinned in response. He was probably getting his Gryffindor jollies off at the idea of a confrontation. I inched my hand toward my wand. Stupid Potter. Strange muggles are not to be toyed with, but dealt with immediately!

Standing, the strange man swung one long, dark blue denim clad leg over the bike to lounge against the metal contraption. His black leather jacket peaked open slightly as he crossed his arms to show a dressy white t-shirt with the first three buttons open to reveal a rather bronzed chest. Crossing his legs in a very casual manner, he surveyed us through the darkened visor.

The man chuckled and then he pulled his helmet off. Shaking his head slightly, wild black curls floated around his face, and I was faced with a masculine man with black stubble across his chin and wild gray eyes. He reminded me a bit of Potter, all messy hair and crackling energy.

"Whoa, Sirius, that's new! Where'd you get it?" Potter asked with awe in his voice. This man was Sirius Black? This athletic looking man with the five o'clock shadow and the contented expression? But Black was supposed to be insane! Of course, insane is pretty relative when you're a Malfoy.

"This? Nice, eh? Arthur Weasley modified this baby. Of course, he had to get rid of it when Molly discovered exactly _why_ she had a trampled vegetable garden and _he_ had a broken nose. Worked out well for me!" The dark haired man grinned and patted the black seat he was leaning on, flashing frightening white teeth at us.

Potter whistled and walked around the contraption, kicking at the tires.

"What in the world is that thing?" The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them. I must remember to stop doing that when dealing with crazy people and/or Gryffindors!

"This? This is a Kawasaki, a ZX-10R. Isn't it great?" Black beamed. I told myself not to ask what a Kawasaki was.

"I'll say!" Potter grinned up at the taller man. "When are you going to let your son take a ride?"

"When you're older, Harry. You know how worried I am about you on a broom, much less something with this kind of power."

"But Sirius! I've driven a car, I'm sure I could handle this!"

"No. Not even if you beg. Ronny told me about landing in the Womping Willow! No, my poor old heart couldn't handle any harm coming to you!" The man grabbed Potter and gave him a one armed hug while messing up his hair. Instead of reacting like a normal person and slapping the offending hand away, Potter grinned up at him! I snorted at the scene, which caused the insane man to notice me standing just a foot away.

"Well, hello there..." He smirked, leaning down and looking in my face, as if he had only just noticed me. I mean, how could you not notice me? I was standing right there the _entire_ time? _Hello_? Plus, I'm gorgeous and it's not like you can miss the platinum blonde hair!

"Oh!" Potter gasped, extracting himself and coming to stand next to me, "This is er…Draco Malfoy. You remember that we're…friends?" He was blushing as he made movements of introduction. Black offered me a hand, which I viewed with distrust, but as he was crazy, I gave a nod in greeting so as not to offend him.

"This is Draco? Awe, how cu-er…nice! Nice to meet you, I mean! It's always great to meet family and a…er…friend of Harry's!" The man chuckled, giving me a clap on the shoulder, which caused me to stumble a bit. I wish people knew their own strength before assaulting me, he was even stronger than that girl Weasley and I still wasn't over her slap! Insane men who hit a person were probably best to be avoided. I decided to make up an excuse to get out of there and save my own arse. Slytherins are good at that.

"Yes, well, as nice as this is," I sneered slightly, deciding to avoid the family comment. Mother's relatives were usually best left alone. "I must be off to assist Professor Snape with classroom preparation."

"Oh! But that's perfect!" The man beamed. I wondered if he had rabies.

"Why?" I asked suspiciously.

"Because I'm here for a reason, not just to see my Harry!" He reached over and messed up Potter's hair _again_ and the two exchanged more dopey grins. Idiots.

"Oh, is Potter being taken out of school?" I drawled.

"Oh, no! It's…let's see….now, where did I put that paper?" The man then began searching through his jacket and the pockets of his jeans, which, were rather tight and in my opinion couldn't hold anything thicker than a sneeze. "Hmmm…must have dropped it along the way, but I had a note from Snivellus, you know, Snape. It's a parent-teacher conference and I've been ordered to attend, seems my little Harry follows in my footsteps!" The man sounded proud as he said this.

"You know it's not my fault, right Sirius?" Potter looked worried for a moment and I smirked from my vantage point.

"Of course Harry! I know that Snape is just prejudiced against Gryffindors. Now, don't you worry, I'll talk to him and we'll get this supposed bad behavior all sorted out!" The dark haired man gave Potter a loud slap on his back, but the boy just grinned at the abuse.

"Thanks Sirius!" They smiled again at each other like the love sick fools they were and I began discreetly edging away. Whatever had infected the two of them might be catching!

"If you'll excuse me, I don't want to be late. You know how demanding Professor Snape can be," I muttered.

"Why that's absolutely perfect," Black said with a smile. "You can take me and we can have fun bonding as family!"

* * *

A/N 

And if the author could write insults with an English accent, the mighty duel would be listed in detail here on these very pages. But I can't, and it's probably embarrassing to try!


	21. Sirius vs Severus

**Chapter 21. Sirius vs Severus!**

* * *

"So…your favorite class is Potions, your favorite food is trifle and your favorite sport is Quidditch with my Harry. That's great!" Sirius Black beamed at me, his gray eyes sparkling. I was pretty sure the sparkle signified he was up to no good. After all, sparkling is in the family of twinkling and twinkling had always signified_ very bad things_.

"Yes. Wait. No," I amended. "I like to _beat_ Potter at Quidditch, not _play_ it with him."

"But…how can you like something that never, ever happens?" The bastard even managed to sound completely befuddled as he casually insulted me.

"That is…!" I sputtered indignantly, my fists clenched at my sides. "That is because the game is rigged!" I resisted the urge to hex him (with my usual self control), but was counting the steps to the Potions classroom anxiously. Who knew I'd actually_ miss_ Potter?

And yet, here I was, wishing the stupid git hadn't gone to Quidditch practice, leaving me alone with his annoying, irritating, infuriating (and had I mentioned annoying?) guardian. I couldn't even insult my way out of this! All such truthful insights flew right over Black's handsome, yet apparently very empty, head.

"I see. I had no idea Hogwarts had become such a hotbed of intrigue in my absence!" The ex-Azkaban attendee leaned over me again, one hand running through his tousled hair, undoubtedly an attempt at grooming. With a role model like this, clearly Potter (and his hopes for proper hygiene) hadn't stood a chance.

"So….who's your favorite teacher? Maybe you have a soft spot in your heart for a rather delectable departed Defense teacher? Or maybe…Hagrid? I know Harry likes him!" said the prying man. Why did he want so many details about MY life? I just couldn't wait to get a chance to tell him where to stick that over extended nose of his.

"As if," I snapped. "I'll have you know that it happens to be Professor Snape."

"Why on earth would you like _him_?"

"Are you daft?" I asked incredulously. "His many good qualities are obvious!"

"Ummm…yes….and thesegoodqualities are?" asked a confounded ex-prisoner.

"Have you _seen_ him?" I thought I heard a few not so captivating terms and some distinct coughs coming from my side but I decided to pointedly ignore them. "He's commanding, intelligent and a Slytherin through and through!" I replied indignantly. "Moreover, he is the most brilliant teacher ever to grace the face of this cloddish planet."

"Sounds like someone has a crush!" The other man teased while reaching toward me, obviously trying to ruin my hair as he had Potter's. I sidestepped it, causing his hand to swipe uselessly through air. "Though, really, I don't think Harry would like you crushing on Snivellus," he finished.

"What?" I replied aghast. "Crush? I think the correct word would be much deserved admiration! And stop saying such things! Why are you asking me these ridiculous questions in the first place?"

"I'm just trying to get to know Harry's special friend." The man's tone was normal for once with a slight hurt tone, but out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed he had taken the first two fingers of each hand and made exaggerated bunny ears as he said 'special friend.'

"Acquaintance! We are acquaintances!" I shouted. No need for this insane man to know my true feelings on the matter!

"Okay, okay, calm down, my dear overly caffeinated blonde nephew. So…let's find a safer topic….hmmm…." The handsome man scratched his head as he thought. Or perhaps he was scratching at fleas. It was hard to tell with all the rugged stubble. He slapped his fist onto his open palm and turned to me with a large smile. "Got it! What's your favorite animal? I betcha it's a dog, right? Maybe you fancy an adorable black mutt?"

"Not a chance," I replied imperiously while flicking my fingers at him in dismissal. "I like _attractive_ animals such as kittens and ducklings and bunn-wait! Stop asking these questions! And I meant that I like snakes! Big, huge, terrifying ones." I huffed. This man was just like Potter. His strangeness had a way of making a person say the wrong things.

"Snakes eh? Pfft." He then had the audacity to actually _tug_ at a lock of my hair. I snapped my head back while glowering up at him, annoyed that I hadn't evaded his latest attempt at pawing. His eyes lit up.

"Well, it's obvious that you like mascara, eh? Though, a cute boy like you doesn't really need it." He leaned over me and peered at my features, his face now only inches from my own. I started blushing.

Wait, I did no such thing! I had merely started to redden from holding my breath in to avoid his foul stench! Though I did notice that his cologne seemed to be rather musky and leathery…

"What?" I replied, feeling out-of-sorts and distracted. "No. I don't like mascara, I was mauled by Gryffindors. And for the record, I also don't like annoying black haired men who won't _stop talkin_g either!"

"Then why on earth do you like Snivellus?"

"Because unlike _others_, he is _not annoying_!"

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd almost think you are insinuating something here."

"Yes, I wonder what I could _possibly_ mean," I snorted while desperately trying to push my abused hair back into place.

Black laughed again, confusion forgotten, and began ticking down his fingers as he ran through an imaginary list. "Let's see…favorite color?"

I glared at him. Why the bloody hell did he want to know my favorite color? Maybe this was some sort of practical joke? But he was old. Old people don't play practical jokes. Unless it was to 'roll over and play dead'.

A sour smell wafted over before I could formulate an appropriately rude response and I realized we were nearing the Potions classroom. This was good news. I was sure Professor Snape would set this man to rights, and if I played my cards right, I just might be able to watch!

As we stepped over the threshold, a cool voice rolled over us.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are only thirty seconds late. Remarkable. Most…_students_…do not take classroom preparation time seriously…ten points to Slytherin."

"Thank you Sir!" I smiled and quickened my steps to stand beside his desk and bask in the splendor of his scowling presence. He looked down at me with his usually grim expression, but I could read the approval in his eyes.

"What on earth have you done to your eyes?" Professor Snape was suddenly breathing into my face, one hand under my chin. I squirmed.

"Well, that is…you see…there was an…these are desperate times and well…girls are surprisingly strong for looking so soft and silly!"

"Indeed," he agreed. "But, you _should_ be able to handle such troubles with poise and control. However, I must assume that this is caused by your unfortunate acquaintance with that horrid boy and is no fault of your own." He nodded at me minutely before visibly stiffening, his dark eyes focused on something behind me.

"Heya Snivvie ol' pal!" Sirius Black called from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and his head crooked to one side. Hair flopped over his eyes, which glimmered like jewel shards in the light of the dim candles. For a moment I felt a sense of unease for Professor Snape, as Black's expression was almost…feral. "Long time no see, eh? You're looking nicely pasty and unpleasant."

"Sirius Black…I see that you have _finally_ deigned to reply to my request for a conference to discuss the appalling behavior of your charge. Please…" Professor Snape hissed as though the very word burned his vocal cords as it left his mouth. "…have a seat."

"Sure!" Black grinned. He slumped over to a seat in the middle of the room before looking around with interested eyes. "You know, I always sat in this seat during class! Your seat was right in front of me. Remember?"

"Most unfortunately."

"Yep, I used to dip your hair in ink every class period! 'Course, your hair was black, your robes were black, and so the only way you knew were the black streaks running down your back. Remember? I heard through the gossip mill that you thought you had some sort of plague."

Severus bared his teeth, the wooden ruler he had in his hand snapping in two. "Draco, if you would be so kind as to bring me the rope on the second shelf of my supply cabinet, the red bottle on the first shelf, and my classroom pointer."

"Right away Sir!"

Minutes later Sirius Black was firmly tied to the chair, leather jacket and all, his arms straining against the ropes expertly tied by Professor Snape. The position caused his white shirt to gape further, highlighting his impressively muscled chest.

Of course, for _all_ his Gryffindor muscle, he was insignificant next to the intimidating figure Professor Snape cut, pointer in hand. Truly, he was a black cloud of pureblood fury, focused single-mindedly on his target. Professor Snape is so commanding and powerful! I know _I'd_ be intimidated if he tied _me_ up!

It was therefore surprised when the black haired ex-con _laughed_. Of course, knowing the true depths of insanity of the man before me, I had no right to be surprised.

"You'd think you'd be better at being a dom, but I suppose intimidating ickle students is different than dealing with a grown man like me," Black chortled from the chair, that annoying smile still plastered on his face.

"I do not believe I have given you permission to speak," Severus scoffed.

"I mean, I appreciate being tied up, though you did it wrong if you wanted to do some spanking, but these ropes aren't the right kind. I can bring my bondage gear next time if you want? Remus has some awesome stuff in his closets…you know being a werewolf and all that."

"Bondage gear?" I asked with interest, wondering if it was better than the stuff we had in the Malfoy dungeons. Not that I was ever allowed to torture anyone in any case. Father could be so stingy!

"Yep!" Black grinned at me. I could almost feel the vibes of corruption in the air.

"Silence Draco, do not be drawn into such an idiotic conversation. I assure you that a proper wizard would require no such…_paraphernalia_." Professor Snape admonished, but his left eye twitched slightly at the last word. I eyed his desk carefully trying to spot a thesaurus there somewhere. Who knows…he does have a lot of free time on his hands and he does need new insults now and then…

"Oh," I coughed. "Where…ummm…would a wizard buy something like that?" I tried to ask casually while fiddling with the red bottle I was holding for Severus. "So that…I can avoid ever going there."

"Don't worry cutie, I can take you and Harry to my favorite shop!" Black said cheerily. "Harry will be thrilled! They have tons of toys!"

"Toys?" I replied excitedly. Father had refused to let me have toys now that I was a teenager. Plus, he was currently a deranged ex-death eater who hated me, but _that_ shouldn't stop the presents! Truthfully, I'd been longing for a certain set of miniature Quidditch players. I wanted to paint them and then mold them to look like the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams and then have matches! Finally I'd top Potter!

Er…at Quidditch.

"Yep all sorts of toys," Black beamed, "though, I won't be able to take you until you're seventeen. Or maybe 21 would be a better age? You seem awfully shrimpy for your age."

"Shrimpy? I'm not short, it's just that everyone else has been cheating!" I stopped myself from mentioning that the charms were prone to bone damage, which was why I hadn't wanted to take the chance. I drew myself up and lifted my chin to add more height, which allowed me to glare icily down my nose. It was a patented Malfoy look that always brought about fear and respect. Black winked in response.

"You will take my godson to no such place," Severus interrupted, his pale cheeks now flushed red. "Draco is a promising young wizard, who will not be perverted by you and your…ilk."

Black turned back to Severus, his focus absolute as some emotion flickered across his face. He smirked. "You always did like to act like you had something unpleasant stuck up your ass, _Snivellus_. You know, you could have much more pleasant things—"

"Enough!" Severus thundered, "You will cease your innuendos this minute or I will render you unable to speak! It would be most _unfortunate_ if such an _accident_ were to occur…even to such a worthless wizard as you." His deep voice echoed in the room, promising any such event to be _no_ accident.

"Innuendos? You always were dense. I thought by getting out the lube you'd finally come round, though I don't really approve of giving it to Draco. He's just a child." Black shook his head slightly while giving Professor Snape an exaggerated disappointed look.

Professor Snape made an odd gurgling noise.

I looked down at the bottle in my hands. Lube? Closing one eye, I peered down the throat to get a better view. It just looked like clear, liquid gel. Lube was clearly a muggle invention, as _I'd_ never heard of it.

Black laughed again at the expression of near apocalyptical rage on Severus' face, his voice deepening as it dropped to a whisper. "Why don't you send the little one away and we can talk about the good old days?"

With a loud growl, Professor Snape swung the classroom pointer through the air to center on Black's forehead, his hand trembling and his lips forming a variety of curses. His shoulder length hair now completely covered his face. His hooked nose and one fierce black eye were the only visible features.

Instead of quailing in fear, Black raised one eyebrow. "Snivvie…er, that's not your wand, you know?"

"Sirius! Are you okay?" A familiar voice came from the Potions classroom door and I turned to see a shocked Potter standing in the doorway. He was dressed in Quidditch gear, which fit his athletic body nicely I noticed.

I sighed audibly.

Snape growled and tightened his hand on the pointer.

"Heya Harry!" Black beamed, the pointer jammed into his forehead beginning to produce a red dent. "Never been better!"

"But…" Potter trailed off.

"No buts or as's Harry. Why don't you and Draco step outside, so that Snivvie here and I can finish our parent/ teacher conference _alone together_?" He ordered, smiling at a furious Professor Snape.­

"But…" Potter and I said together.

"Leave. Now. Or I will take points of an exceedingly large number from both your houses!" Professor Snape stated without looking at us. The chill in his voice was enough to drive me to the corridor.

As Potter stepped after me, I heard the beginning of Severus' rebuttal. "Stop with your inane prattle and listen, you flea brained imbecile! Your charge has been both disruptive and harmful to the other students. I believe this is to be blamed on his overdeveloped _ego_ and regrettably poor _hereditary stock_ and-" The door clicked shut, cutting off the deep voice.

"That was…" Potter murmured, leaning on the cool stones next to the door and glancing at me through thick lashes, his green eyes looking almost black in the low light.

"Weird," I finished.

"Still, Snape was way out of line hitting Sirius like that," Potter muttered darkly.

"Severus was not out of line! That man! That Sirius Black, if that _is_ his real name!" I hotly rebutted. "He was saying inappropriate things!"

Potter looked at the bottle I had been waving around as I argued, an odd expression crossing his face. "Draco, what _is_ that?"

"This? It's a potion, _obviously. _A potion called 'lube', if you must know. A Gryffindor like you wouldn't know anything about it," I said with a sneer.

Potter turned red and gave a shallow cough. "Did you say _lube?"_

"Yes," I sniffed. He had seemed to know what lube was. It was a highly annoying discovery to know that he knew of it before I did. Stupid Gryffindors.

"What are you…what are you planning on doing with it?" he asked in a breathless voice.

"_Obviously_ I'm going to do what everyone does with it."

"You are? Ummm…you're going to use it alone then?"

Was it supposed to be used with other people? "Well, I may invite a few other people."

"Draco, you don't know what lube is, do you?" he said, another strange expression on his face, a glint in his eyes. I didn't like the smirk that was starting to form on his face either.

I scowled. "Not _exactly_."

"Do you want to know?" He asked as he moved to stand next to me, his movements slow and casual. A little too casual as if he thought I was an animal that would bolt. Did he actually think I'd run from such a pathetic excuse of a wizard as _him_?

"Okay."

He smiled as he edged closer until the heavy fabric of his red Quidditch gear was brushing my black robes. With an electric whisper in my ear, so close I could almost feel the brush of lips, he said, "I could _show_ you."

"Is that…" I began while he gave a gentle kiss at the fringe of my hair. I cleared my throat. "The best way to approach this academic endeavor?"

"I think so," he replied. "We can practice and practice until we get it right."

Potter pulled back, looking like he wanted to kiss me, his eyes lidded and leaking promise.

Of course, just as his warm breath ghosted my lips the door shot open and Professor Snape exited in a whirl of black robe and flashing eyes. He glared at us, muttered the word '_disgraceful'_ and stalked away, tugging at the robe that was uncharacteristically falling from his shoulders.

Black appeared in the doorway, shouting after him, "Wait up! I promise I'll pretend to be tied up this time!"

"You were pretending?" I asked, aghast.

Black turned to us and gave a smirk. "Of course! Like the two of you could tie me up!"

Potter frowned at Black. "Couldn't you have taken longer Sirius?"

"Awe, sorry kiddo, you'll have to seduce your boyfriend later." Black gave Potter a sorrowful face, but he didn't sound repentant at all.

"Boyfriend?" I replied in a horrified voice. Curses! How on earth was everyone figuring out that we were more than acquaintances? I thought I'd been subtle and crafty about the whole situation!

"And now I have to track down Snivellus and finish our 'conference'." Black rubbed his hands together, obviously promising ill deeds for my poor Professor. "Care to help a marauder find something on a map Harry?" Black winked and tugged on Potter's arm, trying to pull him down the hallway in the direction Severus had gone.

"Wait!" I called after them. "What am I supposed to do with this lube?"

"Ooh! I can help!" Potter said in an excited voice, now trying to fight off his guardian. "Sirius, let go!"

Black laughed, "Oh, don't be silly Draco! I was kidding. I'm pretty sure that's some sort of nasty potion. I would just put it back if I were you."

"Oh, well, that does make sense," I muttered.

"Oh," Potter said, sounding deflated, as his guardian dragged him away.

* * *

That evening, Black took his leave after absurd amounts of Potter ruffling at the Gryffindor dinner table. Not that I was watching them from my continued seat at the Ravenclaw table, but truly it was better than having to listen my dreadful table mates. _That_ was like attempting to converse with an insane amount of Grangers. From my vantage, it looked like the Gryffindor table was turning into one big…cuddle pile.

I was pretty sure Longbuttox and Creepey were going to die from suffocation if they continued to let the rest of their mates sit on top of them like that while the rest of them…hugged.

Ick.

"Draco! Come give your favourite uncle here a hug before I go!" Sirius Black appeared in front of me with a rosy cheeked Potter in tow. How they'd managed to wiggle out of the pyramid of red was a mystery!

"No."

He smiled and reached toward my hair again with his grabby fingers, but a face full of cologne stopped him in the act. I'd come to dinner prepared!

As he left, still choking and coughing and waving, I smirked. On the plus side, now he'll smell less like wind, musk and manly sweat and more like citrus. Maybe the light orange scent would cleanse some of the hereditary Black insanity.

Still, I couldn't help notice that he looked rather disappointed as he left, his black head hanging slightly in defeat. That meant Professor Snape had obviously won their argument! Maybe they'd even _dueled_.

Of course, I wasn't able to clarify this, as _my_ Head of House didn't surface until the next morning, looking unusually dusty and ruffled. His glare was enough to keep my questions bottled up, at least until Severus stopped twitching and jumping at shadows. The duel must have revved up his fighting spirit!

We Slytherins sure are a dominant bunch!


	22. Narcissa Malfoy

**

* * *

****Chapter 22.Narcissa Malfoy**

* * *

Where _was_ Potter? We had a study date!

I eyed the empty corridor and tapped my foot impatiently. A Malfoy is not to be kept waiting, especially not in such an unsavory place as the corridor outside the Owlery!

Truthfully, due to the fact that our 'study sessions' tended to move onto snogging sessions (if Granger or the Weasel weren't there to throw a wet or appalled blanket on the proceedings), I was still unsure if_ Potter-as-study-group_ was the best way to enhance my academics. For example, I _hadn't_ finished my paper on Animagus transfiguration yesterday, but I _had_ learnt how to transform Potter into someone with absolutely _no_ regards for library rules.

He'd even taken to groping me right in front of Madame Pince (though only after a bet from the Weasley twins)! If I hadn't secretly been enjoying it, I'd have been tempted to do something painfully permanent to those twin blunders.

A low hoot broke through my thoughts, and I glanced at the doorway of the Owlery just in time to see a tall figure stepping out, a distinctive walking stick held before him at precisely the correct angle.

Father!

I flattened myself against the wall, book bag cradled protectively against my chest. Maybe if I stood perfectly still he wouldn't notice me?

In the process of ridding his hem of any obstinate feathers that may have dared thought to cling, he paused as if suddenly alerted by some nefarious force to my presence. I held back a tiny, non-existent whimper as I tried desperately to become one with my surroundings.

He let his robes fall from his fingers.

His nose twitched. My heart skipped a beat.

I watched in dread as he cocked his head to one side, and turned to zero in on me with an ever growing smirk.

"Draco," he drawled.

I cursed internally. Chanting _'I am a wall'_ hadn't helped at all!

"Yes, father?" I asked calmly while desperately looking past him to see if there were any others nearby. Anything would be a fine. Just some distraction, please!

Empty. Drat.

Granted, I'd picked this as my meeting place with Potter _because_ it's usually empty, hoping for a quick 'moment' before heading to the library. (A 'moment' without a librarian glaring at me and Weasleys either keeping score or falling over in faints would have been nice.)

He smiled. "How _fortunate_ to see you, son. Now may be a good time for our talk."

"Our…talk?" I asked, trying to determine if I should set my expression on an apologetic 'suck up' mode or a calm 'above it all' sneer.

"Yes indeed. You see, I feel you have been straying from the right path. You helped that dratted Gryffindor_ **destroy**_** our Lord**!" He said the word 'Gryffindor' as if it was some kind of sticky trash that had been found under his expensively shod foot. (Although I do usually say 'Gryffindor' like that too.)

"Well, that was…I mean, I didn't intend to!" I swore fervently.

He brought his cane under my chin and nudged my face up to meet his cold eyes. "But you did," he hissed, "and you have been fornicating with this ill-bred person as well! Have you lost all family pride?!"

"Well, you see, that just sort of happened! It's not a big deal father, because _I'm_ in complete control of the situation!" This was even sort of true, if only because Potter was a 'nice guy'. He brought treats to study sessions and carried books and was undoubtedly the best kisser in the school. Though, I'd really need to get a larger sample base to make that claim. Or I could just kiss him more and judge him by the percentage of perfect snogging within say a ratio of a hundred.

I sighed happily at the thought of all that…research. Granger would be proud. (About the thought of research, not of the research material.)

"You're thinking about him right now! Aren't you?" He eyed my face closely, daring me to deny it. I noticed that he had no visible pores on his nose. I'd have to ask him where he had his facials done later.

"No I'm not! I swear! I only ever think about evil! Not kissing or facials. Evil!"

"It matters not!" he replied, his voice booming in the quiet hall. He had good projection. "Those sins, grievous as they may be, are not the worst of your betrayal. Not only have you aided in my capture and refused to help me with my endeavors, but you have instead cleaved to your dratted mother as if _she_ were your _favorite_ parent!!!"

"That's not true! Fa—"

"Enough! Did I not spend your childhood teaching you how to think, how to act, how to be?" He clenched his fist and shook it slightly to emphasize his point, as if he were a villain in a really bad play. He always _was_ one for being overly dramatic. "But, that is neither here nor there, for you have committed the worst sin of all!" He hissed down at me, his slim fingers squeezing the head of his cane in a death grip.

"Father?" I squeaked. If only I could figure out what exactly could be considered the worst of my actions…

"You…" he began, his voice choking. I shivered. "You…YOU GAVE AWAY MY HAIR PRODUCTS TO THE MINISTRY AND TOLD THEM THEY WERE DARK ARTIFACTS!" he roared.

I stammered, "Well, you see father, I tried to save your beauty supplies, I really did! But the ministry was just all over the house. I didn't want any incriminating evidence sent to them! You know I love you best!"

"Don't lie to me," he snarled. "I could only have expected betrayal upon finding a better offer. It is what Malfoy's _do_. However, my hair has looked horrendous for months now. I am _quite_ put out." He pouted and smoothed his hair, which he had seen fit to pull back from his temples into two slim braids, the rest of it sliding smoothly over his shoulders. He looked like he should be prancing around the forest in tights with the other wood elves.

"I'm sorry father," I lied while giving him my best hurt and bewildered look.

"You had better be." he eyed me closely with his staff still hard against my chin. It made it impossible to swallow. I wondered if acting pathetic would get me out of the situation. Knowing father, most probably not. Though he did love to see others grovel.

"Malfoy!"

We turned to see Harry Potter standing in the corridor. He brandished his wand at father, his cloak barely hanging on as he barreled down on us, all motion and energy.

"How tiresome," Father drawled. "I don't know _how _you put up with him, Draco, he's just so _loud_ and _excitable_, like a barking, scruffy little half-breed _dog_."

"Let him go," Potter bit out as he walked steadily toward us. "_Now_."

"I was done here anyway," Lucius smirked as he stepped away from me. "Oh, and Draco? You should be wary that your _better offer_ does not tire of you."

For once, I held back a retort, too busy watching as Potter drew closer. How ever did Potter manage to walk and keep his wand absolutely still like that? It _was_ rather impressive.

Father sneered slightly at Potter before a blank expression settled on his face and he turned, sweeping away down the corridor.

"Are you okay?" Potter asked breathlessly, while keeping a careful eye on my retreating father.

"I'm fine," I replied quietly. I felt strangely lightheaded (which was a distressingly normal reaction for me around Potter).

"I'm glad," he muttered quietly as he stepped closer.

"Umm…not that I actually needed you. I mean, I was handling the situation fine."

"Of course." He murmured with one raised eyebrow. I'd bet he'd learned _that_ look from that annoying guardian of his.

"Just so long as we're clear." I huffed, "I'm _not _some damsel to be saved."

"Well, no, but you have this habit of goading people. You tend to insult everyone."

"Not _everyone,"_ I demurred.

He gave a slight, disbelieving cough. "_Everyone._ Gets you into trouble."

I lifted my nose up in indignation. "I can't help it if people get all insane and violent when faced with the truth. Shows their poor upbringing."

Potter laughed quietly and then shook his head. "I think you spend too much time with Snape."

"Rubbish. That isn't possible!"

"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy, excellent point," came the deep and sexy voice of Hogwarts' resident Potion Master, who was now walking sinuously toward us. Well, if I was to be accosted by people in dark hallways, I could do worse than Severus Snape!

At the sight of Professor Snape scowling down the corridor, Potter muttered something about bats and immediately set his expression on a petulant glower. It was rather adorable.

"Professor," I inclined my head respectfully.

"Mr. Malfoy. How nice to see you. This is fortuitous, as I was just on my way to—" He stopped speaking and fidgeted slightly before he continued, "find you."

I nodded in response, wondering why he suddenly seemed uncomfortable. It was then that I noticed the sealed letter in his hand.

"Oh! Would you like me to mail your letter?" I asked brightly. Maybe if he left before I sent it out, I'd have a chance to do a bit of snooping! Slytherins love snooping!

"Do not be ridiculous. I am mere steps away from the Owlery, and would not require any such assistance." He huffed. "If…I was indeed sending a letter. Which I am not." The letter was crumpled and soon disappeared into the mysterious cavern of his voluminous robes. I sighed inwardly as his look towards me continued in a decidedly unfriendly manner. He'd become _so_ temperamental ever since that horrid guardian of Potter's had been to school.

Potter coughed and something that sounded remarkably like 'liar' was heard. The Professor eyed him as one would a particularly ill-formed house elf.

"As I had previously mentioned, I was seeking your presence. I assume you were not more easily found due to your unfortunate companion. Five points from Gryffindor."

I beamed. Potter made a choking noise in his throat.

Severus scanned the hallway, making note that father had completed disappeared before motioning me to his side. "I wished to see you to alert you to the fact that another member of your family has…graced us with her presence."

"Mother is here?" I asked in surprise.

"Indeed."

"But…_why_?"

"I'm afraid you will have to ask that question of her. You will find your answers in the Great Hall." He paused for a moment before continuing, "I would make haste."

I ran to the Great Hall.

I vaguely heard Potter shouting after me about studying and Snape taking additional points from Gryffindor for his general offensiveness, but was in too much of a hurry to reply.

Mother.

At Hogwarts.

This could not be good!

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy is a beautiful woman. Tall, slender, and with an aristocratic nose and an air of sophistication that oozes from her well bred pores in the same way sweat does from the unwashed masses. 

Unfortunately, the word _reasonable_ has never been used to describe her. As she has said many times,_ 'Darling, thinking just gets in the way. Now, pour mummy a glass of wine.'_

Maternal is also not a word to describe her. I had always been a doll to her, a pet to dress up. That horrendous portrait of myself as a baby, naked, on an Egyptian rug was proof of her lack of normal motherly virtues. But for all of our differences, I knew she loved me and wanted the best for me.

"But _mother_," I whined for the sixth time. "I don't _want_ a wife."

"Nonsense dumpling! I know you don't mean that. I received your letter after all!" The blonde beauty was seated in a comfortable looking padded chair which she had situated before the student tables in the Great Hall, as a queen to greet her subjects. Her golden hair was pulled into a tight chignon, and house elves were running to fetch her drinks, snacks and more silk pillows.

"What letter?" I asked in confusion. I hadn't sent anything recently.

"Why this one!" She opened a parchment resting on her lap and I felt a distinct prick of panic.

Before I could stop her, she began _reading_ it out loud, her forehead scrunching adorably as she concentrated.

"_Mother,_

_I'm sorry to trouble you, but I believe I've been hexed, or perhaps poisoned._

_I've had a dream about…being with another boy, which, as you know, is absurd! Someone must be planning this to humiliate me!_

_But…it felt so real. Do you know if dreams are telling of our true desires? No, that's impossible. It is clearly a plot. They shall get theirs. _

_But…I'm so **confused**. I know I like girls. Why aren't I have dreams about **them**? Granted have you **seen** the specimens around here? Horribly nosy and bossy the lot of them!_

_Please write back soon! I really need your help._

_Love,_

_Draco_

_P.S. Straight men can enjoy kissing other men, correct? It doesn't make them not…straight?"_

She finished and laid the letter back on her lap. I tried to remember how to breathe again, feeling slightly nauseous. This was _embarrassing_. I'd written that letter in such a different state of mind.

"Now," she purred at me. "I know I can help you with your little situation."

I snapped out of my trance. "Mother, I sent that so long ago! You can't seriously mean that you didn't bother to read it until _now_?"

"Now darling, there is no reason to take that tone with me. I am doing this for your own good."

"I don't see how this can help me. I already told you that I'd figured out the…problem," I muttered crossly. I hadn't quite said _'I'm seeing Harry Potter and therefore don't need a girl to snog because I've already figured out that I like boys and I apparently like the Boy-Who-Lived best of all'_, but it was _clearly_ understood.

"Nonsense. You're just a baby! Of course you need mummy to come and help you," Narcissa cooed.

"Daphne Greengrass." A man with a heavy accent, tanned skin and painted on trousers announced from the entry. He had dark eyes and the look of someone who has lived in the Mediterranean eating olives and seducing foolish American tourists. His garish shirt was parted to his navel, which was heavily covered in curly black hair. I glowered at his abundant chest hair.

The man bodily shoved a frightened looking Greengrass towards mother. She motioned for the pale girl to sit.

"Thank you Raoul," Mother purred. "You've been a dear. I'm _sure _you wouldn't mind bringing me the next girl, a Cho Chang, Ravenclaw?"

He nodded at mother, giving her a smoldering look through his dark lashes before pealing himself from the wall and sauntering out. I wondered if he'd leave a trail of slime on the wall.

"Wonderful. Now, Daphne," Mother said, turning her attention to the confused Slytherin girl on the stool. "We simply must talk. I've already looked into your family, of course, but I wanted to talk to get that _personal_ touch."

"Mother!" I squawked, "What are you doing and who is that man?"

"Raoul? Such a dear. He's been assisting me since my little trip through Italy. Isn't he just adorable? And those muscles!" Narcissa beamed.

"Raoul!? But what happened to Jean? Or was it Pierre? That guy you met in France, the one you couldn't pull yourself away from to see your _only son_?" I finished bitterly.

"Oh, that didn't work. He was just _too_ clingy. But now, sweetie," she murmured, shaking one manicured nail at me. "No more sidetracking mommy, I've got quite a lot to discuss with Daphne here."

"Mother!"

"Draco, dear, you're using your outside voice."

"But mother!" I whined.

"This is IT, young man." She ordered in a cool voice. "You're going to have to leave and let mommy protect your future. Out."

"But this is insane!"

"Now, now darling…after all, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm staying in Hogsmeade, but will be dropping by to speak with the candidates all week so don't worry, bunny! We'll simply have barrels of time!"

"Mother!"

She sighed and closed her eyes, visibly counting to ten.

"Out." The tone was not pleasant at all anymore, and I remembered why I was more afraid of my doting mother than my warped father.

I scurried out.

As the door shut behind me, I heard mother's first comment to Daphne Greengrass. "So, Daphne, I understand you have had…relations with quite a few men. Exactly how many have you allowed to breach what you _should_ have been saving for my darling son?"

I stalked toward Slytherin, muttering the entire way. First, I had father prancing around all menacing and flamboyantly gay, and now I had mother determined to marry me off!

Why couldn't I have been born to a nice, normal family? Like Potter. His parents were dead, that had to be better than this!

There was a shout of laughter and I noticed a group of students walking toward me, Potter included in the mix. He beamed and made a bee line toward me. My heart skipped a beat and I felt a dopey smile cover my face. He probably had no idea how beautiful he was when he smiled that lopsided smile of his.

"Hey Draco, I missed you at the library tonight." Potter said, leaving the group. Weasley following behind him still chattering to his back about brooms.

"Studying?" I asked jealously, noting Granger among the group passing us. She'd obviously been getting a leg up while I'd been wasting my time arguing with mother. I'd never beat her at this rate!

"Yep…well…sort of." Potter said sharing a grin with Weasley. They'd obviously been letting Granger do all the work _again_.

"I didn't get anything done," I said mournfully. "And I'm already late on that Animagus essay!"

Potter gave me a consoling glance while Weasley just looked perplexed at the idea of being _upset_ about skipping homework.

"You know," Potter began. "Hermione always writes several versions for every essay she does. I bet she'd be happy to let you use one of her rejects!"

"Hey now!" Weasley said, obviously having planned on obtaining said duplicate paper for himself.

"Really?" I asked, looking up at him hopefully.

"Really," he replied huskily, slipping an arm around my shoulders. "Let me walk you back to your common room. We haven't spent very much time together today."

"Hey! Only breakfast, lunch and every spare second. We were talking brooms Harry, brooms!" Weasley shouted after us.

"Later Ron!" Potter replied.

"Weasley." I nodded, though I let myself smirk slightly while Potter wasn't looking.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Potter asked, handing me back my book bag. My books. I hadn't even noticed him taking them near the Owlery.

I laughed and knew it didn't sound happy before muttering, "I don't know. My mother."

"I thought you liked your mother?"

"Yes…but…" I floundered and then trailed off.

Before I thought about it, I had stopped walking and leaned into his warm length, my head resting perfectly on his shoulder, my books balanced between us. Warm arms slid around me and we stayed together. I listened to the steady beat of his heart and the in and out of his breath.

That warm feeling inside was back. He had waited for me. And brought my books for me. He really _cared_. I sighed, this time happily and snuggled closer to the warmth and the _right_ feeling that came from him.

"Well, isn't this sight exactly what I require before retiring for the night? Charming." A snide voice broke through.

"Professor!" I jumped away from the other boy, as Professor Snape approached.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for attempting to molest a Slytherin. Also, an additional twenty points as that Slytherin is my godson."

Potter growled.

Professor Snape glared in return.

"Depart to your rooms at once."

"I hope I do not need to _clarify_ that you should be returning to your _own_ rooms…_alone_."

* * *

AN – 

The letter Draco sent was back in Chapter 13.

I apologize for taking so long!

**RousyP: **You are correct, it is 'pig tale pulling' on Sirius' part! We'll touch on it in future chapters, but unfortunately, I won't be able to get _too_ deeply into that in this story. I do have plans to have Severus in a romance in two upcoming fics: 'time travel' and 'Hogwart's gone creature' that I've been working on, and I promise that in _those _fics the Slytherins will not be the pushovers that they are here (except for Draco, snarky is his gift after all!) Though I tend to think of it as not being 'pushovers' as much as 'ha ha, yes, let's get some hints of bondage and a furious Snape in here!'

There will be some action and some angst in the upcoming chapters (though I'm not very good at angst!) so hopefully that'll help with the overlaod of Fluff I tend to give!

**Cimmerian Sorcerous**: Thanks for the great review! And especially thank you for the wonderful beta job and the great ideas you have! You are really the best!


	23. Malfoy Family Traditions

**Chapter 23. Malfoy Family Tradition**

* * *

First thing Saturday morning, I popped into Severus' office. Being a teacher's favorite doesn't just _happen_, one must _work_ for it. I found the master of the office not in attendance, but then it _was _a Saturday, so it was very possible that it had been a late night for the professor. 

Why he thinks vodka mixed with some of his various concoctions and grading are an appropriate Friday night activity is beyond me. Of course, there is the fact that he does his best critique when sloshed.

It was then that I noticed the letters stacked rather haphazardly on his desk next to an empty glass. I leaned forward to get a better view, being careful that no body part or robe made contact with the desk (or any object connected with said desk). The man is a bit _paranoid_ occasionally.

I could just make out both top letters if I squinted, which I immediately did.

_Severus,_

_No replies to any of my letters? Here I thought we'd finally have the time to have a nice, intimate discussion!_

_It's almost as if you have some sort of silly school boy grudge against me! C'mon mate, we're in our late thirties and **way** too old to still be holding onto something like that._

_Besides, you never let us finish our parent/ teacher conference! By the way, where **did** you go? You've definitely picked up a few new tricks._

_Anyway, the offer still stands: how about a nice 'chat' to go over old times? I've got so many pictures from the good old days! Remember the bathroom incident in fifth year? I swear I didn't know the water hex would leave boils like that! The look on your face though! Still laughing over that one! Ah…good times!_

_By the way, Remus says 'hi' and thanks for the Wolfsbane Potion. It's very sweet of you to keep sending it to him._

_See you soon! _

_Sirius_

The other letter was clearly in draft stage, as it was slightly smudged, as if it had been worked over several times.

_Black,_

_Cease and desist from this very obvious attempt to further pursue your grudge against me. We have nothing to say to one another._

_I will not meet with you now or at any other instance in the future. While my conversation would undoubtedly be witty, yours would frankly involve mere buzzing in your attempt to live out your glory days of school. You are a washed up shell of a man, whose only means to survive society (note that I do not say **polite** society) is to latch onto an easily mislead boy who happens to be the darling of our idiotic world._

_I do not send the beast that potion for his sake, but for the sake of others. I normally suggest euthanasia for his kind, but fear that he may be the only thing to keep you from being a complete menace to society._

_As for your attempt to…reminisce…please feel free to relive the moment thoroughly by using that hex on yourself. I'm sure you'll find the situation enlightening. _

_Correspondence containing photos of such an event will be gladly received._

_I doubt we will see each other again._

_Good Day._

_Professor Severus Snape _

_P.S. Thirty-six is hardly **late** thirties you pestilent boil of a man._

"Mr. Malfoy," a deep voice interrupted my snooping.

"Professor!" I managed while watching Snape enter the room. He didn't sweep in a flurry of black robes as is his custom, as much as stagger forward, black cloth dragging limply on the floor behind him.

"I had just happened to glance down when…" I began my argument.

He silenced me by waving a limp hand in my general direction, before dropping heavily into his chair. He immediately slumped over while massaging his forehead, one slender hand groping blindly across his desk toward a drawer. It had definitely been a vodka filled night.

He extracted a murky vial, which he then uncorked and drank in one steady gulp, his Adams apple bobbing rhythmically. A few moments past before he opened his eyes and straightened, his expression now back to his usual look of disdain.

He looked at me. A snort was heard. Well, I _had_ dressed to kill today, in an all black ensemble. The pants were too tight to wear comfortably: thus they fit perfectly.

I only hoped the fact that I was dressed in mourning would not be missed on mother.

"I see you are in high spirits this morning," he commented dryly.

Severus has a way of saying things that makes a person want to squirm.

"Will you need any help this morning, Professor?" I parried quickly.

He clasped his hands in front of him while surveying me with dark, lidded eyes. He sighed.

"Draco…I feel the need to inquire regarding your well being. I trust you and that…_person_…are not doing anything that is causing you undue duress?" Ah, he was finally approaching me about Potter. He'd probably hoped it would just all go away.

"No, Sir," I replied honestly. Now mother on the other hand…

He sighed again, a frustrated sound and studied his intertwined fingers carefully. "Is the issue perhaps boredom?"

"No, Sir."

"Have you not enough homework? I would, after all, be _very_ happy to rectify such a situation."

"Oh, ummm…No, I'm doing just fine, Sir." I shook my head quickly, deciding against my basic instinct, which was to state that Potter wasn't so bad when one really got to know him. _That'd_ go over well. (Yes, that was sarcasm.)

"Very well," he replied, disappointment plain on his sallow face. I went on my way to breakfast, leaving him muttering under his breath about _Potters._ It might be a good idea on my end to avoid him for a bit until he got used to the idea. It should only take a few years before he accepted it enough to react non-homicidally!

While distracted by the situation before me, a ghostly hand emerged from the dungeon shadows to pull me back towards my certain doom. Why were the dungeons fraught with so many dark and dreary hiding places for nasty undead creatures?

"Ack!"

"Oh, _do _stop it, Draco. You sound like a girl."

"Father!" I squirmed out of his grasp and began patting down my mussed hair. He did the same. After it was determined that both attire and coiffure were in order we took stock of each other again.

"I understand, through various sources, that your Mother is here," he stated coldly. Why is she always _my_ mother when she's annoying him and _his_ wife otherwise?

"Yes," I hedged, not _quite _sure how much I should share.

"And pray tell, what exactly does she _want?"_

Father didn't know? Father didn't know! He could stop this whole silly marriage thing! I threw myself at my Father's mercy and soon had him sympathetic and enraged on my behalf. I explained about the girl I would be forced to marry, and he was noticeably disgusted. Of course, he was disgusted because he was a pervy, underage Slytherin fancier, but that wasn't the important issue!

Waiting in the Entrance Hall for mother, I couldn't help but feel a re-sparking of love for my strange and distant father. He looked so tall and collected right now as he stood in front of me eyeing the room with derision, as only the first born son of a wealthy family can.

"Draco," he turned to me, favoring me with an almost warm look. I felt a melting in my heart. Sure, I hated him, but maybe he really _had_ changed this time.

"Though I detest what your dreadful Mother is attempting to do, I must say she has stumbled upon a rather _interesting_ idea. An alliance to the right person, perhaps…in the form of an apprenticeship could be quite useful. _If_ it is to a person in power, a person untouched by scandal …indeed, this could turn things around for me! I mean, for us," he amended quickly.

"What type of apprenticeship?" I croaked, knowing that anything that brought that animation to my father's face boded ill indeed.

He seemingly hadn't heard me, for he continued on in almost bubbly tones, "I'll have access to my wealth and holdings again! Think of it! I will finally be able to move freely!"

"But, what did you mean by apprenticeship? I would be the apprentice? How would me…_working_….help you?" I struggled with the unfamiliar word.

"Ah, but you are stuck in the 'now', forgetting the ancient traditions of our illustrious world! In the past, a young man could apprentice himself to an older and more powerful sire, thus taking upon himself a portion of the power and respectability of his mentor."

"But what would this…sire get out of the deal?" I asked dubiously.

"Oh plenty! In the past an apprentice would bring valuable skilled help and a thirst for knowledge, or perhaps an aptitude in a useful field such as divination, potions or arithmancy. Of course, the scope is wide indeed for this type of apprentice, and some individuals considered attractive, but with no discernable talents, would trade sexual favors for the honor." He stopped and looked me up and down. "Right. In your case it would have to be of a sexual nature."

"Father!"

"_What_ is your problem _now_? It's not as if you have valuable skills to barter. Are you that opposed to our tradition?"

"But I do have valuable skills to barter! I'm a good flier!" I retorted angrily, before realizing that I'd basically just agreed to father's scheme.

"I think not. I will have you remember that you were thoroughly trounced by that _Gryffindor_ on more than one occasion."

"I don't care," I huffed. "This is stupid, even for our family."

He drew himself up to glare down at me as if I were a grubby little house. "It. Is. Tradition. A highly respected, but not often used, tradition."

I mutely stared up at him. He waved his hand at me. "You're not seeing the big picture. Just think of it! I'd be able to leave this dreadful school without the constant threat of Auror tagalongs. _For my own safety_ they say. Am I so defenseless that _I _need protection from misguided vengeance seekers? As if!"

"I don't think this apprentice thing will change things," I muttered crossly.

"Not usually, _but_ if we can sell you out to someone in a position of power, with an unblemished record and a spotless presence in the insipid social circle of the…" here he paused and shuddered with disgust. "…Light..."

"You're going to sell me? Father!"

"Silence, Draco. You should be honored to sell your body for your family!" he ordered while pulling out a parchment from his sleeve and making a few notations. After sputtering at him incoherently, I gathered the courage to glance at the list.

"Father! Cornelius Fudge!? But he's so old and wrinkly!"

"And _Minister of Magic_, never forget that. I know you like people with power, why else would you let that dreadful boy hero drape himself all over you? Worry not, Fudge is rather low on my list." He pointed again and I blinked. _Albus Dumbledore?_

"Father!"

"_Don't_ take that tone with me, young man. Do you forget whose heir you are?"

"Why, he is _my_ heir Lucius. I am still a respected member in _my_ family." Mother's clear, heavenly voice rang through the entrance hall. She bore down on father like a blonde angel of mercy.

"_So_ nice of you to join us," Father murmured politely.

"Oh no, the pleasure is _all _mine," Mother purred.

Father visibly started as Raoul stepped into view. "_What_ is _that_?" he asked imperiously. At least the gigolo was wearing a shirt that was buttoned today. Sort of. If you ignored the gaps. And…was that a six pack? Mother did have taste, I noted.

"He is a _friend_. Pray do not pretend that you have not had any _friends_ while we've been so regretfully parted?" she asked coolly.

"None at all," Lucius replied, flicking imaginary dust from his sleeves.

I rolled my eyes.

"_Indeed_." She gave a disbelieving cough. "Well…as absolutely _pleasant_ as this reunion has been, I simply _must_ steal Draco away, as we really should begin looking at more prospective brides."

"I think not," Father replied in clipped tones, placing a hand on my shoulder and yanking me to his side. "In fact,_ I _think that Draco would prefer that_ I _assist him with any future bonds."

"Well actually," I began before I was shushed by both parents.

"Ah, but Lucius, he needs a mother's touch. He is going through such a traumatic time and you have been away for so long…" she trailed off, her eyes wide and oh-so-believable looking. "You just might be out of touch with dear Draco's needs." I wasn't sure if it was just me, but the temperature in the room was definitely dropping.

"Nonsense, I will at least have picked someone who can aid our family!" Father narrowed his eyes.

"But Father," I began again, only to have two sets of 'Shhhs' roll over me, before my parents stepped to the side, the talking part of _this _argument apparently over. They faced each other silently, locked on target.

I took a cautious step back. Unfortunately, I knew exactly where this was heading as it was like every other day in the Malfoy family rolled into one. Soon, they would duel (though duels are usually reserved for disputes over the choice of wine at dinner). Then, there would be a joyous reunion, after which they would remember their true purpose: ruining my life. Of course, they needn't bother uniting for _that_, they are quite capable of accomplishing that particular task separated, blindfolded and with their hands and wands tied behind their backs.

My parents began circling slowly, watching for any falter in the other's stride. Figured. They _were_ going to duel in the middle of Hogwarts. As if I wasn't enough of an outcast! Of course, father claimed that Malfoys _never_ fight in public, but I stopped believing _that_ longbefore he got into the famous bitch slap smack down with Arthur Weasley.

Father flicked his hair over his shoulder and tightened his hand on his staff. In response, mother let her morning cloak slip from her shoulders to pool in shimmering piles around her feet. She drew her wand, dangling it almost negligently between her fingers, and smiled challengingly.

I took another step back and bumped into a student behind me. In fact, there were a great many students behind me. There were the usual Slytherins coming from the dungeons, but also a few sleepy looking Hufflepuffs, some interested Ravenclaws, and unfortunately far too many slack jawed yokels…i.e. Gryffindors. Idiots! Did they not see a commencing duel when it occurred right under their very noses?

"Get back you fools, and go to breakfast! They're going to duel," I hissed quietly. A low murmur swept through the crowd at the news.

A Gryffindor with dreadlocks stepped forward and I racked my brains. Ah. Lee Jordan, friend of those dreadful Weasley twins and Quidditch commentator prejudiced. A grin identical to the twins was prominent as he pulled a megaphone from his bag. I narrowed my eyes at him warningly. Did he not see my parents engaged in a silent dance of death?

Father exhaled in a hiss and lifted his staff carefully, holding it defensively in front of him. Mother narrowed her eyes in response, tensed and ready to spring.

I tried to get Jordan's attention, but was completely ignored. Of course, he was a _Gryffindor_. He'd probably think it great fun to get in the way of a good Crucio…er, I mean…a nice, _legal_ Petrificus Totalus.

Jordan took a deep breath, edged even closer to my parents and his voice suddenly rang through the Hall. "Step right up and take bets as we witness a duel of epic proportions! And once and for all, we see two Slytherins finally get what's coming to them! Better yet watch two _Malfoys_ get their asses kicked by each other!" I rolled my eyes. Gryffindors _say_ they're not biased but we all know that's a lie, now, don't we? Good thing mother and father were too absorbed in the duel to hear the moron's blathering. It was too early in the morning to start oiling the chains in the dungeon.

Father circled his cane slightly and harsh winds ruffled around mother before she cast a quiet _Protego._ She smiled and flicked her wrist, sending small shrilling bells to float and clap around fathers head. Mother liked spells that were difficult to get rid of. Father covered one ear against the din and responded with a line of blue fire which set out to devour mother (and Raoul if the idiot continued standing behind her). I sent a silent prayer heavenward that Raoul wouldn't step out of the way fast enough.

Jordan's voice continued in the background and I saw that he had been joined by the Weasley twins, who were exchanging money with students and taking notes on a blinking board that had appeared above the gathered crowd. I fought the urge to bury my head in my hands.

"Place your bets people! Make a nice profit by guessing the winner of this duel! Bonus money if you pick the right form of dismemberment! With these two evenly matched opponents, anything can happen! One is renowned for her brilliant casting of Confounding Charms, the legend still living on to this day in reverent memory of all the Gryffindor girls undressing one memorable lunch." Cheers swept through the hall. "And the other is known only for his foul casting of those _spells-that-shall-not-be-named_. Now _some_ say he's been acquitted, but if you ask me it took place under _very_ suspicious circumstances…"

Father, taking no notice of the megaphone at all, so focused was he on mother, who had by now successful extinguished the fire. He sent a shroud of darkness her way and began working on the bells, which must be dismissed individually. They wouldn't be quite so bad if they didn't bite as well, and apparently his long, pale hair was an especially tasty treat for animated, carnivorous bells.

"Now, all reliable Wizarding news states that this ex-death eater extraordinaire had his wand snapped and has been forbidden to have another at this point of time. But there have been rumors abounding of a _certain death eater_ er, I mean _ex-death eater _who seems to be as skilled with snake-headed staffs as any wand holder. We can certainly see the truth of that today! Now, step right up! Remember, the more you bet, the more you win!"

Father had successfully rid himself on the bells (after a few drawn out tug-of-wars). Mother had destroyed the shroud as well and they paused, both obviously considering the next few steps of the duel. I felt a hum of triumph at seeing Blaise standing with a group of Slytherins behind me. Maybe _that_ would put a stop to this.

"Oh look father, it's Blaise!" I called, trying to sound innocent.

"The Zabini boy?" Father asked while sidestepping a severing curse and sending a favorite spell of his at mother. No _Finite Incantatems_ would take care of _this_ spell, only the counter-curse would work. Which mother knew obviously, as this certainly wasn't the first time she'd been subjected to it, was it? She began the spell on it, pain beginning to etch her face.

"Yes _Zabini_," I called to father, stopping him as he began a follow up curse, which surely would have ended the duel.

"So you said." Father turned to me, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, he's your…_you-know,_" I muttered with a hot blush covering my face, keeping my voice low so that only my parents could hear. Not that mother was paying attention, what with the pain (and the counter-curse being such a long thing).

"My _you-know_? But…I've only been a mentor," Father replied, a perplexed look on his face.

"You call that _mentoring_?" I asked with disbelief.

"Of course," he said in his ever so patronizing tone. "I have been a strong father figure in the poor boy's life. All of his fathers are sadly dead due to unavoidable, yet strangely mysterious, circumstances. It was a chance to finally tutor a son to be a strong Slytherin presence in the school." The words '_unlike **you** Draco'_ weren't spoken, but they may as well have been. Blaise had suddenly become much more interested in staring at the ceiling than facing my piercing gaze. I narrowed my eyes. Why…the tricky little! Blaise had me completely _fooled!_

"As you could have seen if you had but opened your eyes to the truth around you, dear son, I _kept_ my marriage vows," Father continued.

"Please. You haven't kept a single vow in your life." I snorted, but I was beginning to hope that maybe Blaise _had_ been lying.

"Well, be that as it may, from your upset tone I can see that the Zabini boy has told a very naughty lie. It must have rattled your defenses quite a bit. I see my mentoring is bearing fruit." He turned and looked approvingly at Zabini.

"But…"

"Now, now, Draco. I'm a Malfoy; we are paradigms of nobility and virtue. However fun and naughty evil deeds may be, you know I would never do such a thing." He lowered his voice as he leaned toward me. "Besides, I highly doubt I would be allowed to get away with an affair with a student, as I am being watched so closely."

I agreed slowly. If there was nothing else I could trust in, it was his desire for self preservation. Father nodded in return just as a bolt of red hit him squarely in the back, flinging him backwards with an almost comical look of surprise on his face. He flew down the hallway, doors opening and closing alarmingly as he passed. We lost sight of him completely after the third door.

"Father!" I turned to look for him, but saw only empty corridor. Where had he disappeared?

"Well that was a disappointing end to our little bit of morning fun," Mother sighed.

There was a cheer and the Weasley twins began disbursing the winnings while Jordan finished his summation. McGonagall's voice was heard over the din, inquiring as to what had happened. She was immediately answered by 'Quidditch' by one twin and 'Peeves' by the other as the board mysteriously blinked out of existence. Honestly!

"Shall we go dear?" Mother asked, appearing at my side.

"Yes," I sighed. And we headed down the corridor in search of father.

Family— you can't live with it nor can you get rid of it. A _sad_ state of affairs. Especially when you're part of the Malfoy family.

* * *

A/N 

The last line is from the Adam's Family, and thanks for that and many other updates to my beta, Cimmerian Sorceress! She had to beta this twice as I continued having chapter block and wasted much time – it was appreciated!


	24. The Return of the Goat!

_**Chapter 24. The Return of the Goat.**_

* * *

"He's not in here!" I called, sneezing loudly as dust hovered around my head in a cloud. Seriously, some of these classrooms hadn't been used in ages. I made sure to make note of the particulars for future 'study' breaks with Potter. 

"Lucius is _regrettably_ not here, either," mother replied as she stepped out from a small closet that contained rusty looking chains attached to the wall and several immensely large crates of lemon drops stamped with _**Mundungus Fletcher**_. Honestly, this is what you get with an illegal-lemon-drop sniffing Headmaster, and a cat-loving-bondage-obsessed caretaker!

We continued down the corridor, with the unending accompaniment of Raoul kicking at the wall and muttering sullenly as he trailed behind us. (The wall remained unaffected by his attack but I'm not sure if the same could be said of his big toe.)

He'd been complaining _non-stop _about being hit by one of father's hexes, which had resulted in a tiny cut on his perfectly tanned, non-freckled, absolutely impression free nose. In my opinion he was a whiny bastard. Heck, one regularly saw larger welts all over the Weasel due to his inability to shave. Of course, the rumor currently floating about was that he was too poor to afford proper shaving equipment, and had resorted to borrowing Granger's leg shaving kit. (Yes, the thought causes me to shudder too!) But, the fact remains; you don't see the Weasel going around complaining about being a red, lumpy mess! Raoul could learn something from that.

As he poked at his 'wound' and pouted, mother's lips tightened noticeably. Obviously, having survived worse from father without a sound of weakness, Raoul's desperate pleas for attention would be an unnecessary source of annoyance. One that she was rather eager to get rid of, it seemed.

"Draco dear," she called, opening a door to a classroom that appeared to contain no desks or chairs, but instead was stuffed full of a bunch of useless _trees_. This just goes to prove that education in Britain is falling. "Why don't you go on and check the courtyard? Raoul and I will finish looking here."

I nodded, and watched as they stepped inside, Raoul fairly growling as he followed. The fighting started before they'd closed the door. It appeared her new boy-toy was not going to last any longer than the others. I just hoped she would use discretion. It would be harder to hide bodies in this student infested castle than in Malfoy manor.

I sighed at the frivolity of parents and dutifully started down the hallway. I was prepared for the snow in the courtyard, but was not quite prepared for the wall of cold air that hit my face with almost tangible strength as I pushed through the rusty double doors. It made sense as it was almost Christmas break, and yet I couldn't help but continuously try to delude myself into believing that I lived in sunny and sexy Morocco, not wet and cold Scotland.

I surveyed the snow covered ground stretched before me and considering merely _saying_ I'd searched outside, but the thought of mother finding no corresponding footprints was a frightening prospect.

The wind rather cut through my open robe, which, like my outfit had been chosen for style, not warmth. I pulled it around me and concentrated on the nice crunching sound my feet made while doing a cursory round of the courtyard.

All was fine, except for the fact that I was apparently taking twice as many steps as I _should_ have been.

I stopped.

The sound behind me continued for a moment before stopping as well and a loud snuffling noise was heard.

As casually as I could, I turned and peered over my shoulder.

In the middle of Hogwarts, under a tree dripping with snow, stood a goat. A white, scraggy, bearded, and _very_ dirty mountain goat. Of course, one could not be certain if the brown splotches were dirt or natural coloring.

The goat eyed me.

I eyed it right back.

It then turned its head to one side, and looks my clothing in an inappropriate and lustful manner. I pulled my robe around me more tightly. Now focused on my expensive suede pants, the goat licked its lips.

The goat stepped forward. I stepped back.

It picked up the pace, and I retreated hastily, and we continued in this manner until I was running and the goat was slipping across the snow after me, wobbly legs occasionally splaying on all fours.

Unfortunately, falling didn't seem to slow the bugger down any.

Now moving faster than even during Quidditch on my illegally modified broom, I flew inside, heading for the Entrance Hall, at which point I was able to slam the heavy doors shut, throwing my body across it while panting.

Something crashed into the door from behind and the wood visibly shuddered.

Breathing heavily, I looked around for something to drag across to keep the dratted thing on the other side. The sounds coming through the wood had me wondering if the goat was planning to _eat_ its way through.

The door behind me whined alarmingly as if the hinges were coming undone and I felt a headache forming. I scanned the room. Where were all the _students?_

Sure, when it was time to watch my parents duel they couldn't show up fast enough to watch my shame, but _now_ that I was going to be _mauled_, they had to toddle off to breakfast. Bunch of wankers. The door shuddered and began falling on top of me. I screamed, evaded the falling debris and tore towards the safety of the Great Hall. Maybe if I hid behind all the Gryffindors, I'd be safe? The Weasley twins ought to keep it busy for at least an hour, they certainly looked stringy enough.

I burst through the doors, and headed straight for the Gryffindor table, the teaming masses of heroic idiots looking like a choir of angels to my needy eyes. Unfortunately, the table wasn't getting any closer. Perhaps due to the fact that there appeared to be a hand locked on my collar. The hand was attached to pudgy arms which lead to an even pudgier body, attached to a brown haired witch with a tiny purple hat perched squarely on her head.

I gaped.

She smiled in a rather nasty fashion, but due to her flat face, I wasn't sure if _any_ expression would be pleasant.

"Crazy-French-Mountain-Witch!" I announced, pointing at her.

The French witch sighed, "I told you before! I'm _English_. I was taking a _vacation_ in France!"

"Whatever," I told the French witch. "Let me go! There is a goat after me! A goat!"

"Oh!" She beamed, it was worse than her nasty smirk, "Is my little sweetie out already? I knew he'd find you, he liked you _so_ much."

There was a clattering noise and the goat bounded through the door to sprawl on the floor of the Great Hall before it clamored to its feet and headed toward me like a cat after a catnip stuffed toy mouse.

I began desperately trying to wriggle out of the witch's death hold, while a hum of whispers swept through the room behind me as the students noticed the spectacle I was sure we were making.

This was truly a _sterling_ morning for the Malfoys.

The goat gave a mighty jump and landing on top of me, causing me to go down in a whirl of robe and hooves, until the enchanted ceiling swam in front of me. A rough tongue began licking my face and I yelped in terror, trying to bat it away. I succeeded, and the smelly (and rather _wet)_ head moved away, but I wasn't able to relax yet as I then felt a distinct tug on my clothing.

It had found the edge of my shirt with its teeth! Hey! That was hand stitched!

Before I could go into aneurisms, the weight was abruptly hoisted away and strong arms pulled me up, leaving me with a clear view of the tables packed with students, all looking my way.

"Are you okay?" A familiar voice asked.

"I don't know. Is anything ripped?" I asked Potter, clutching his arms as he steadied me. His bright green eyes and messy hair was a disturbingly reassuring sight!

"I don't think so," he replied, inspecting me more closely now for damage.

"Here goat, goat, goat," the Weasel crooned from our right, holding a fork with a sausage attached. The goat obviously found the food lacking, for it was again eyeing me (and my expensive clothing) lustily. What a perverted creature! I had half a mind to introduce it to Raoul and leave them in a room together.

"Honestly Ronald, goats are not carnivorous," Granger stated imperiously. She grabbed a tray of sliced fruit from the Gryffindor table. "This is not _quite_ correct, but perhaps it will do." She lowered the tray enticingly. The goat sniffed the tray and then peered up at Granger before sniffling at the tray again. The muggle-born witch smiled in triumph.

Instead of going for the food, the goat leapt at her, latching onto her hair, obviously mistaking it for mountain grass.

I began to laugh, as Granger _did_ look rather funny. Her legs were flailing about quite amusingly as she tried to pry her hair free. I only hoped I hadn't looked like that.

"Hermione!" the Weasel yelled, brandishing his fork-with-sausage as a battering ram and leaping into the fray. What a foolishly brave idiot he was!

"Avast mates! It is time to go a-goating!" One of the twins called from the group of disturbingly excited looking Gryffindors watching the scene. He turned a bowl of rolls upside down to wear on his head like a helmet and began tugging on one of Granger's legs.

The French witch had been shouting the entire time for people to stop abusing her precious pet. I frowned at her for a moment, realizing that Potter was _still_ inspecting my clothing for tears, though his hands now seemed to be centered on my arse.

"Thank you. I think I'm okay now."

"Are you sure?" he asked, sounding disappointed, before perking up. "Maybe you should take a bath. I can help!"

"A bath _would_ get all this drool off," I replied thoughtfully.

"Yes, and I'm very good with my hands, you'll be clean _everywhere_."

I pondered this. Taking a bath would mean being completely naked, right? We'd never done that! A loud 'Hem Hem' cut through thoughts that were taking a surprisingly dirty turn for anything involving bathing. The French witch had apparently tired of yelling at people for daring to fend off her hell beast, and was now favoring us with a decidedly frosty air.

"Hello," she sniffed. "You must a little friend of Draco's. Your name?"

Really, was the fact that Potter's hand was now possessively resting around my shoulders any clue at all that we might be more than just friends? And wasn't that haphazard scar on his forehead any indication as to who he exactly was? How blind could the woman be?

"Harry Potter," he replied, his eyes narrowed.

A loud crash distracted me from the conversation for a bit, and 'Dean! No!' was heard from the Gryffindors. Thomas was _just_ visible through the crowd, somehow having managed to join Granger under the goat, though his jersey was the draw there, apparently. Idiots. The Gryffindors weren't even _trying_ to use their wands.

"Oh. Charmed," she replied, glancing at his scar with visible disgust. "Well, far be it from me to judge Draco regarding his friends. I'm sure everyone will be quite sad when he leaves."

"What do you mean?" Potter ground out.

"Why, Draco will be leaving school today to come live with me," she replied brightly. She had an unpleasant way of talking, a bit too high and squeaky, as if she were an overweight mouse.

"My son will be leaving school to come live with _whom_?" My mother's voice practically trilled as she swept into the Great Hall, no Raoul in sight, but a rather rumpled looking Lucius accompanying her. That was fast. They were looking very…chummy again. This did not bode well.

A good duel, no matter the winner, tends to do that for Malfoys. Mother said it released 'endorphins', whatever those were. "This is a surprise as we were just finishing Draco's engagement plans." Mother smiled at Lucius.

"_Engagement plans?" _Potter squawked.

"Oh. _Really_?" the French witch asked.

"Oh, indeed," Narcissa Malfoy replied, "And you are?" The two women turned to face each other, taking measure. It was almost beauty and the beast, except the two were women and that well, that was where the comparison would end.

"Dolores Umbridge," the older woman said, offering mother her hand.

Mother took it coolly, her manicured fingers looking white and fragile in the other woman's pudgy grip. "A _pleasure_," she intoned, the very tone of her voice screaming out the exact opposite. "Now, precisely how long have you known my son?"

"Why, we met last summer, when he stayed with me in my lovely cabin in the Pyrenees." Umbridge explained.

"Draco was in France? I don't remember this," mother replied, a frown marring her (unnaturally) smooth forehead.

"Mother!" I squawked, "Don't you read any of my letters? Does me falling down a mountain ring a bell? This woman saved my life!"

"Yes," Umbridge said victoriously. "He owes me a Wizard's Debt."

"Draco, is it true that you have incurred a Wizard's Debt to a woman forty years your senior?" Mother turned to me. Umbridge 'hem hem'ed again in indignation, though if it was at the dismissal or the mention of her advanced age was up for grabs.

"There were goats, getting me all dirty," I muttered. "And she didn't say 'Wizard's Debt', she just got all demanding about me owing her my life. I may have said 'yes', but I didn't think she _meant_ it! She's a crazy French mountain witch, you don't worry about debts to them!"

"But he did agree, and he owes me his life," Umbridge said triumphantly.

"I'm sorry, but that is not possible. He is a minor and as such you may not lay claim to any debt until he comes of age," Mother countered serenely, but her smiling face was just a tad bit too frozen.

"Well not _quite_, after all, I am simply asking for service any teenager may give. Running errands, cleaning my house, that type of a thing. Oh," Umbridge gave a rather fake gasp. "But, it will take him away from Hogwart's, and at such an important time too! He would have been graduating in two years! So sad that his education will be cut short. If only we could discover a way to transfer this life date to a suitable… alternative."

"Alternative?" Mother enquired with cool disinterest.

"Indeed. A suitably _large_ donation could be considered compensation for a debt such as this. I wonder if, say…Malfoy Manor would be adequate reparation."

Mother froze for a moment, her pale eyes unreadable. Father stepped past her, coldly surveying the woman. His hair and robes were once again impeccable. How did he do that? I hadn't _seen_ him primping. "I believe you are mistaken. It would take more than a life debt to equal the value of the manor."

"Normally yes!" The woman replied in that same too-cutesy-to-live tone. "But, times being what they are, and with your manor held in ministry protection… why the taxes for regular maintenance alone have cut into the supposed worth quite noticeably. In fact, I have documentation with me outlining the decline in value. Oh, silly me! Had I forgotten to mention that I work for the Ministry?"

My own blood boiled at the thought of this squat woman daring so much as to set foot in the manor, let alone trying to steal it as she was. The gables, the gardens, even the ghosts were in a way beloved to me. I had spent my childhood toddling around ever inch of the estate (learning many valuable survival skills in the process!) The manor had raised me more than my own parents had. That it would be taken away…

"I'd rather leave to serve this horrible witch," I stated decisively, my body shaking.

"No," Potter growled from beside me, one arm clamping onto my arm.

"Excuse me?" Mother replied, arching one thin eyebrow. Both my parents and Umbridge turned to look at Potter with quizzing gazes.

"All of you can shove off," he ordered slowly, his eyes narrowed and set.

"Shhh!" I hissed at him.

"No," he said quietly. "I'm not letting them take you away or marry you off like you're some pawn."

"Ah, you are Harry Potter, are you not?" Mother cooed at the boy, which is not a good sign. Mother always becomes more pleasant before she strikes.

"Why should we listen to a boy like you?" Umbridge interrupted, earning her an annoyed look from Narcissa before a pleasant smile once again covered her face.

"Because we're seeing each other." He replied stubbornly.

"Is this true Draco?" Mother asked lightly. I gulped. Sniggers were heard in the hall.

"We may occasionally, sort of. Just a little," I muttered to my shoes.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to find mother looking down at me with an unreadable expression.

"Draco," she called in a soft voice, her gray eyes intent, but I could see that she was not thrilled. "Are you in love with this…boy?"

"No, of course not. Love is a weakness. He's a Gryffindor, and… he …he just won't leave me alone, that's all."

Mother said nothing.

"It's not my fault that he's like that." I tried again, but my voice broke. My eyes moved, of their own accord, to Potter.

The black haired boy was now looking at the ground, his mouth drawn in a tight line and his shoulders slightly slumped. He looked _sad._

I…

I, Draco Malfoy, had made _him_ sad.

Harry Potter wasn't supposed to look like that over _me_. Over someone like _me. _I felt uncomfortably hot and a lump formed in my throat. I wanted to reach out to him, but couldn't move.

To reach out to him now…father was here. Mother was here. It just wasn't…done. And after I'd said that horrible thing, would my touch even be accepted?

"Draco…" Mother said quietly, but there was something almost kind in her voice. It confused me as she was supposed to be angry, but maybe she really did think we were only friends? "Well, you talk to your friend and let mommy handle this…_woman_." She pushed me toward Potter who was looking at her with surprise, his eyes flickering between the two of us.

"The old laws are on my side," Umbridge interrupted.

"And yet, my son is underage and thus not able to actually consent to any such debt. As for… the Manor… I will be looking carefully over any Ministry approved proposals," Lucius replied, already beginning to sort through the packet Umbridge had been holding.

Mother gripped Umbridge's elbow tightly, without loosing her ever present smile. "But, let us leave the children to dine and continue our discussion at the lake. It is _ever_ so lovely this time of year. All that pretty white snow and the hard, jagged ice over that cold, freezing lake."

The trio swept from the room, though Umbridge's departure could have perhaps have been best described as 'dragged away'.

I knew Potter was watching me, but I couldn't look, instead I stared until the last of my father's robes disappeared from view.

"Draco..." Potter began.

I tried to look at him, but couldn't seem to bring my eyes above his shoulder. I didn't want to see if he had that same sad look. He wasn't supposed to look like that. Not over me, not over anybody!

"Look at me," he said very quietly.

"Is that an order, Saint Potter?" I asked hotly, but it was _not_ what I wanted to say. But, if I didn't fight him… if I didn't… he would get underneath. And, I couldn't allow that. Our time to pretend was over. My parents were back. The _world_ was back. The time to pretend was gone.

"It's an order." There was no give in his voice. It was cold. Very cold. I managed to drag my eyes toward him, knowing I was sneering.

_Hating_ that I was sneering at _him_.

He didn't look sad, not anymore, now he appeared… wounded. Hurt. Pained. And above all that, another emotion that I didn't know quite how to decipher. He let that look stay on his face as he leaned closer to me, the familiar warmth now almost _frightening_, as if it could hurt me. Or worse, leave me.

"Look, I… you know…" I began.

"No. I _don't _know. Why don't you explain it to me?"

"Well, because, you know this can't work. Society and expectations..." I muttered, back to focusing on his shoulder. He hadn't let go of my arm. The touch almost seemed to _burn_.

"Do you think I _care _about expectations? I've done my thing. I'm _done_ with them. The rest of _my_ life is about what _I_ want to do. I don't care what they say in the Prophet or that gossip mongrel Witch Weekly and I don't _care_ what small minded people say, even if they're your parents…" he sighed.

Then in a defeated tone he continued. "But _you_ care."

I looked aside.

"For all you've said about hating them… you know… that's just… bloody stupid!" he said bluntly. I looked up at him in surprise. Potter was always so kind to me.

"In fact, that's so stupid, that I'm not letting it be an issue. The real problem is that you're apparently engaged. Am I the last to know?" he asked lightly. Too lightly.

"They're my parents!"

"They'll always be your parents, but this is _your life._ Tell them _NO_."

"But…she's my _mother_! It just doesn't work to tell her 'no'. It's best to just go along."

"She'll always be your mother. She'll come around. You're not marrying some girl just to make your family happy."

I looked at him helplessly. I _had_ said no, but… I had known that in the end what my parents wanted was what would happen. He sighed at me and let go of my arm, stepping back slightly.

"And… do you _really _think I'm a nuisance. _Won't leave me alone_ you said." He sounded bitter.

I was back to his shoulder. Everyone around us was probably listening in gleefully. This wasn't the _place_ for this.

He turned away.

I stared at his back, getting broader almost every day now, the ugly sweater he wore was starting to stretch at the seams. It was such a _familiar_ back, but looking at it now was painful. It _hurt_. I'd never hurt inside over someone like this.

I had to make him turn back to me.

"Look, can't we just…" I tried. "Let's just forget this and go back to the way we were. You know, while we can, we've got at least a year…" I trailed off quietly.

"No, Draco. I can't…Look I'm going to think…you should think too." He turned back to me and gave a sort of smile, his eyes unreadable, those eyes that I'd looked into so many times. In anger and jealousy when I was younger, in confusion when I was older and in… joy just yesterday. He turned away and I missed those eyes.

"Potter…"

"Didn't I _mean _anything to you?" Now _his_ voice broke. And then the door swallowed him and he was gone.

I stood in that noisy room, a silent speck of nothing. Gryffindors and animals and the expectations of these people who had rejected me were nothing to me now. They didn't matter.

Because _he_ was gone.

"…_Harry_."

* * *

I wish to thank my beta, Cimmerian Sorceress! She does great work! 


	25. Never Turn Your Back on a Malfoy

Chapter 25. Wizarding Rule Number One: Never Turn Your Back On A Malfoy.

* * *

After _he_ left, taking with him his green, green eyes, warm arms and soul stealing kisses, it took me several minutes to move again… to get away from the gossip and nosy eyes trying to pry into me. I felt oddly removed from my surroundings, as if I was wrapped in a bubble and everyone else was _outside_. Their loud voices and animated faces couldn't reach me, because they shouldn't _be_ when _my_ life was like this. 

I finally resorted to curling like a cat on my bed, not hungry and not wanting to deal with parents or students or Potion Professors with Potter fixations.

I clenched my fists in anger. Stupid Potter with his stupid Gryffindor way of not understanding _the-way-the-world-works!_ How dare he be...

Be…

What?

How dare he be…_Harry_? No, that's not right…I _liked_ Harry, didn't I? Even if I didn't always _admit_ it.

But! How dare he _reject_ me, walking away like that just like he had in first year! The hurt from _that_ was still strong and I reveled for a moment in the righteous hurt I'd felt at his small hands.

How dare he reject me today like that after all I'd…after…I'd rejected _him_.

That was a sad thought…and the anger too was beginning to lose hold as a prickling of something rose up that made me feel _very_ uncomfortable.

Guilt.

Why? Wasn't he only an annoying Gryffindor prat?

Hadn't it only been about the snogging and all the endless help the Boy Who Lived seemed to exist to provide for one Draco Malfoy?

But, Potter had held me after Blaise had said those horrible things about father. His arms had been so warm and…safe.

I shivered and hoisted myself up to search my trunk for a cardigan. I'd kept an old one around because it secretly reminded me of the comfortable clothing Potter would wear. Of course, he wore his out in _public_, not being bothered by looking ridiculous, while I wore mine secretly, when I needed something to cuddle.

But, instead of soft material, my fingers brushed against the hard edges of folded parchment. Letters. The letters we'd written last summer.

I pulled them out and began reading, sighing through my parents' correspondence. They'd been distressingly predictable.

Then I came to Potter's.

As I sat quietly deciphering his messy script, I noticed something that had not occurred to me at the time. Potter had been…coaxing me to respond. Y_ou're afraid to give me a chance?_ That had manipulated me right into answering back.

I felt a lump in my throat as I read the next letter. _I can be a friend._ Why had he tried back then? Why? He hadn't really known me… but then, I'd often secretly thought I knew Potter better than his stupid friends. Maybe _he'd_ felt the same way and had been willing to _do_ something about it?

_Care to show me how wizards do it?_ He'd been flirting! Way back then? I let the letters slip from my fingers thoughtfully.

He _had_ been flirting.

Exactly how long had he liked me?

A traitorous thought entered my mind.

What had I really done to _deserve _it? To deserve someone who would try so hard…so carefully…for so long? Setting up study dates, and not pushing me farther than I was willing to go…being so caring.

As the letters shifted, a small photo slipped out.

It was the picture Colin Creevey had taken of Harry and I accidentally holding hands after the Yule Ball. But that was _ages_ ago, back in Fourth Year when I was sure I _hated_ him.

I remembered that the Yule Ball had been so horrendous, with those Patil girls stalking me and Viktor Krum _clearly_ confused about my gender. There'd been a mad dash from the fire and I'd been excited by the chance to hex others.

My hair was mussed in the photograph, and Harry was panting, but we both looked…exhilarated. I watched as the picture looped and Harry and I glanced in surprise at the camera before turning to look down at our joined hands.

An expression crossed his face. It wasn't anything I'd ever noticed before.

I studied the picture again and again, now seeing that expression on his face every time.

_Longing_.

He'd _longed_ for me.

And not for my money, because I'd been cut off, or social standing, as I had been an outcast, but for…me. (Granted, my spectacular good looks probably had something to do with _that_.)

What was I _doing?_ Was I throwing away something as good as Potter…no…_Harry_ because I couldn't stand up to my parents, because of pride?

If I was, I didn't really deserve him then, did I?

But I was Draco Malfoy. I deserved the _best_.

I stood.

I didn't know what I was going to say. I didn't have a plan, or a list, or a carefully thought out way to weasel my way in, but I went anyway.

Potter wasn't in the dungeons, but then I hadn't expected him. Instead, I was ambushed by a _very_ excited Potions Professor who had a seventh year Ravenclaw clasped firmly by the arm. His name was Roger Davies, and Severus was _quite_ convinced that the best thing for me was to try a date with someone new now that Potter and I were no longer at 'item'. The fact that Davies was noticeably heterosexual didn't seem to be an issue for the professor.

When Davies protested, he was told that he _would like Draco if he wished to live to see another sun shine on his pathetic existence. _Though Davies was the quintessential tall-dark-and-handsome, he was _straight_ and _not-Harry_, so I managed to extract myself by promising to talk to Severus after lunch.

The Great Hall was empty of messy haired boys with atrocious glasses as well, though I just barely missed Creevey, apparently looking for an interview. Nor was Harry in the Gryffindor Tower, or so the fat bird's portrait insisted. She didn't like me as much as she used to, probably threatening to light her on fire when she wouldn't move caused _that_ change in attitude.

However, luck finally struck, for Potter _was_ on the Quidditch pitch.

But he wasn't flying.

He was running. Pushing his way through snow with single minded determination, exhaustion etched on his flushed face. How long had he been out there?

As if pulled by some sixth sense, his steps slowed and then stopped as his flushed face turned in my direction.

"Are you…why are you…" I started to ask.

"'s like track and field…the pitch." He managed to gasp out.

"Oh," I replied, having no idea what track and field was. Probably some form of muggleleeze, perhaps their term for agriculture? Though, I hardly saw how running around like that in the middle of winter was going to get _any_ field ready for planting.

He took a huge breath of air and then stood up straighter, giving me a determined look.

"Draco, I've been thinking," he began and I felt my heart drop. Was he going to tell me I'd not been worth it all along? And leave me? With no Potter…

No!

"Oh gods no. Pott— Harry, don't do that! It would be idioti— no, what I mean to say is that I'm…sorry."

"You're…apologizing?" He sounded incredulous.

"What I said was…wrong. You're worth so much and you weren't…you know, you weren't a bother," I had to stop because how many times could I say 'sorry' and 'wrong' before he would cut me off to say 'bye'.

My debasing blubbering apparently had an effect because his face softened immediately.

"Draco, come here," he ordered opening his arms for me. And even though he was sweaty and still breathing heavily, I stepped forward and then oh god! his arms were around me and his warmth was back and I could hear his heart and it stopped hurting and I stopped shaking and I could take a steady breath. I burrowed my face into his scratchy sweater (made of inferior yarn) and knew it was the best thing I'd ever feel.

My voice sounded croaky, but I managed to continue. I couldn't let this chance slip away. "And sometimes I'm an idiot, because I wasn't looking at what was _there_. You were there and I should have seen how important you were. I was an idiot," I said quietly, before continuing in a low tone. "Though everyone else is _more_ idiotic so I think I should be forgiven my _minor_ lapses…and really, they _are _all out to get me, which is rather wearing on a person. Such pressures can impact the _greatest_ minds."

I looked up and saw his very earnest expression. Perhaps I should have left off that last bit? Deciding the avoidance was the best policy, as well as hoping for more than just snuggles, I burrowed back into his sweater.

His voice then rumbled into my ear. "I _was_ going to say we'd work through this even if I had to pound it into your thick head. I'd even worked out a viable plan of attack. But this is better. _Much_ better."

"Really?" I looked up.

"Really." He clonked his forehead against mine and our lips met. His were cold and chapped and just a bit sloppy, but it was perfect because it was him.

He pulled back after nipping at the corners of my mouth, I tried to follow, but his quick frown stopped me. "We have to talk about the engagement thing."

"Oh. That."

"Yes. _That_. I'm not sharing you. Not the type." The look he gave me over the rim of his glasses was _definitely_ possessive.

"I argued! I did! I told them 'no', but they don't listen."

He expelled a breath. "It was…frustrating. Don't…don't let anyone just _take_ you away like that without a fight."

"But…they just don't _hear_ me," I slowed down. "Besides, they always get their way. They're parents. It's what they do…"

"Hmmm." Potter's browed furrowed for a moment before a slow smile crept over his face. "You know, don't worry about your parents. I've got a brilliant plan. _Trust me_."

I tried to finagle the details of this apparently brilliant plan, but Potter just winked, which led to me pouting, which led to him snogging me, which was going along quite nicely until I realized that my feet were getting wet, and a few drying charms and protective charms later Potter remembered he had an important event with Hagrid that he'd almost missed. Because he was holding my hand, and I really didn't want that hand to go away, I went along, even though I (secretly) sneered at the very idea.

The 'important event' was just as bad as I'd feared. The groundskeeper was crying when we arrived and continued crying into his overly large hands between words.

Apparently 'Scotty' was all grown up. I know I'd heard the name before, but for the life of me I couldn't remember.

And, apparently he was ready to leave home and start his new life in…the lake.

As I already had very strong opinions about the sanity (or lack thereof) of said groundskeeper, I wasn't overly surprised.

"But e's jus' a baby!" Hagrid wailed.

"But Hagrid, Scotty's just too big now, you told me yourself that he wouldn't fit in the tub anymore." Potter soothed, patting him on the back.

"But what if the other giant squids are mean to 'im?"

"The _other _giant squids? What other giant squids? There's only the one. Right?" I asked, my voice rising as I edged back from the lake.

"Now Hagrid, she's his mother, of course she'll be nice to him!" Potter affirmed, ignoring my justified objections completely.

"Oh! E's sayin' goo-goo-good byyyeeee!" The groundskeeper trailed off into incoherent noises and began waving frantically. Not able to stop myself I turned to see that, yes, there was indeed a small version of a giant squid at the surface, having broken ice to wave various appendages at Hagrid. Or perhaps it was trying to entice us to come closer to eat us? I stayed firmly where I was, behind Potter, with one hand clutching his robe lest he decide to jump into the freezing water to say 'hello' in true Gryffindork fashion.

Hagrid waved.

Potter waved.

The squid continued undulating in an approximation of a wave.

I desperately wished for anything to break our 'special moment'.

As luck would have it, the sound of ice skidding across the hard surface of snow to our right drew our attention and we saw Mother and Father climbing down a hill toward us.

"Draco dear! So nice to see you out! Is it not a lovely day?" She trilled as she blasted another mound of snow in front of her, ensuring that she had nice, clear ground to walk on.

I shuffled my feet, feeling the snow once again melting through my nice leather shoes and turning my socks into wet bands of torture. "It's rather cold to be considered 'nice' mother."

"You're cold?" Potter interrupted, wrapping his coat around me before kissing me on the mouth. His tongue slipped in almost incidentally, though I was pretty sure tongue insertion was not usually an afterthought. He pulled back, winked at me and then beamed at my parents, who were both staring at us as if we had been doing a rendition of _Hamlet_ in the nude.

Dear gods, did Potter _want_ to die?

Mother cleared her throat awkwardly while father rolled his eyes, obviously having seen this sort of thing before. He returned to the stacks of paper he was looking over diligently, perhaps to avoid the situation entirely.

"Well. Now..." Mother began, before stopping abruptly. Harry had slipped one arm around my shoulders to play with my hair all the while giving mother a large smile, his eyes open and guileless.

Mother shook her head, visibly collecting herself before she looked around discretely, obviously looking for _something_ to use as a conversation point that didn't involve her only son being molested before her very eyes.

"Isn't that nice," she managed as she looked over the lake. "And how lucky for our walk as this is hardly the season for ducks." My parents exchange a _look_ before turning toward the lake with similar smirks covering their face.

We turned and indeed there was a small brown speck trundling across the ice.

Unfortunately for the duck, its path brought it right into the waving tentacles of the squid (apparently not bothered that only Hagrid was still waving back). Or maybe it just _liked_ flailing about; I wasn't really all that versed in the ways of squids.

Harry made a sound of horror in his throat as the duck was promptly seized.

And then in what was perhaps the most bizarre sight I had ever seen (and I had once stumbled upon mating house elves, so this is saying something)…the squid began…petting the duck.

I rubbed my eyes.

The duck squawked pitifully and feathers flew as it tried to take flight, but this proved fruitless as there was a tentacle draped over its wings. Soon all that could be seen of the bird was a small head and frantic black eyes peaking from within a large mass of coils.

"Oh…look at tha'! E's got a friend!" Hagrid said happily.

"Er…yes…making…er…friends already," Harry replied nervously as the squid began breaking more ice for what appeared to be its new teddy bear.

With that task done, the duck was freed and the squid disappeared from sight only to bob to the surface whenever the duck tried to flee. All the bobbing up and down reminded me of my old bath toys, though I didn't think_ Froggy McFroggerson the III_ had _ever_ sported as happy an expression as the squid.

"How charming," Mother commented, apparently trying again to find a less offensive topic. "Oh! Draco, it seems that you won't have to worry about any silly little life debt. Dolores has kindly withdrawn her request. Though, I admit it has taken several hours to make her see…_reason._" My parents again exchanged a look before gazing serenely towards the lake.

"She has? I don't have to leave school?"

"Of course not! You must complete your education," Father chided.

"What made the crazy cow change her mind?"

"_Names_, Draco. But, yes, she rather has had a…change of view," Mother replied noncommittally. I looked between their very blank, very innocent faces and then slowly turned to look at the lake. To the duck that had wandered out from the shore _in the middle of winter_, which was now being towed to a large rock by the 'baby' giant squid, Scotty.

A horrible suspicion took root in my mind.

Father knew many nasty hexes and had, admittedly, rather… flexible morals, especially when it came to protection of the Malfoy way of life. Mother was very adept at confounding charms. So much that she could, for lack of a better word, _encourage_ a person believe they had _always_ been an animal.

But had they really turned a ministry official into a duck?

I looked at them once more, watching mother pluck innocently at her light blue robes while father returned to his papers to mutter something about idiotic Ministry stooges.

Pushing aside the possible fate of one Dolores Umbridge, I asked. "Does this mean we'll be able to return to the manor this year?"

"The situation is…complex. And I am crippled with the restrictions placed upon me," Father muttered.

I sighed. I had hoped, now that my parents were back, that we could have Christmas at home. Potter looked at me searchingly.

"Do you really want the manor back?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, I mean Christmas is coming up and it just…it would be nice to be home for that."

Potter smiled at me. I felt a pleasant wave roll through me and I reached for his hand again, so happy that he was back to being _mine_.

"Well, we'll see what we can do about that," he replied quietly, giving my hand a squeeze back. He turned to my parents.

"Malfoy. I think I may be able to help."

Father frowned. "_Lord_ Malfoy, and I doubt that." He was looking Potter up and down in a way I wasn't sure was a good sign. Luckily, mother was there, so I was pretty sure Potter wouldn't die (or be debauched).

"Look, I'm not talking about _me_."

Lucius gave the boy a look that clearly stated that Harry was all that Harry had to offer and returned to his papers.

Harry sighed audibly. "Arthur Weasley ring a bell?"

Father flinched and scowled.

"Did you know that he not only works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, but has now been given a managerial role in the Ministry? It's about time. For some reason the paperwork for his advancement had been rerouted three times! Crazy, isn't it? It was only this past year, why right after you had been unfortunately sent away, that everything was found and he'd been given the promotion he deserves."

Father looked aside shiftily. "Imagine that."

Harry's left eyebrow was twitching visibly at having to deal with my parents, so I squeezed his hand again to bring his attention back to me, where, of course, it belonged. "What do you mean…Harry?" I practically purred his name. Now that _Potter_ was '_Harry'_, I had a rather bizarre urge to go around saying _Harry, Harry, Harry,_ just because I could.

Which, of course, I wouldn't – not being a Hufflepuff groupie.

Harry turned to me with a grin, "Draco, you just might make it back to the manor for Christmas after all."

* * *

Thanks again to Cimmerian Sorceress for the _fabulous_ beta work (now if only I wouldn't putz around so!) ;) 

PousyP,

I promise hereafter that the remaining chapters will be posted within two weeks! (Mainly because there are only **two** more chapters and I've already written them, so I feel safe with this assessment).

The line you liked: _I just hoped she would use discretion. It would be harder to hide bodies in this student infested castle than in Malfoy manor._ were 100 percent added by my beta, Cimm! She's awesome.

Your comments about Harry made me think, as always. (_grin)_ But, I really worked hard on making this chapter consistent. Which is difficult for me, as I am not very good at angsty situations. I tend to make them short (as you can see here) so I can get back to the fun stuff (flirtatious innuendoes and randy animals). But, really, I felt that Draco needed a wake up call. Can't exist in an elitist little pureblood bubble _forever_, however much fun I had with that bubble. (Though we all know he would if he could).

I just want to thank you are _everyone_ (including mou!) who has been a loyal reader. I promise that although we're two chapters from the end, we will go out with a bang! (Not a literal bang, mind you, and technically this is a 'T' fic so I can't actually have the _good_ kind of 'banging' either, but you'll see what I mean!)


	26. Christmas Part One

Chapter 26. Christmas at the Malfoys (Part One)

* * *

"This is great," Harry murmured as he slipped behind me.

Leaning back into his warm body, I shifted until I was absolutely comfortable. Well, as comfortable as one could be while sitting scandalously on the floor. Who knew that couches were better for _leaning_ against than _sitting_ on?

"It _has_ been a pretty good Christmas," I agreed, while gazing serenely at the roaring fire before us. The mantle was decked with fur branches and ribbons, as tradition demanded, and it was quite a spirit lifting sight. Of course, the entire house was decked in style, but there was something just so _Christmas_ about a roaring fire at Malfoy Manor.

I was still hazy as to _why_ the Malfoys had suddenly been allowed back into the Manor as I had not been permitted at any of the Ministry meetings my parents had attended. And technically, the Manor was still not under our control, but held in trust by a Ministry administrator. The silly Ministry thought we were some sort of _threat_ or some other rubbish and _technically_ a Ministry drone of some sort, Amelia Bones to be specific, had final say in all goings on.

Which was why 'my parents' (or should I say Madame Bones?) had graciously accepted Harry Potter as my guest for the Holiday. (Truthfully, I'd have rethought the invitation if I'd remembered that along with Harry Potter came an insane guardian, an ex-Professor that had a hairy problem every month, and annoying Gryffindor friends _plus_ their families.)

I was pulled from my thoughts by the feeling of Harry pressing his lips fleetingly down the side of my neck as he made a happy sound in the back of this throat. I titled my head to smile up at him and Harry's eyes twinkled happily as he leaned down to start a snog. Unfortunately, our interlude was interrupted by a throat clearing itself pointedly from the corner. Harry's body tensed.

"Though I still don't see why _he's_ here," Harry complained, looking pointedly at the _other_ person in the room, one Severus Snape, Potions professor and Malfoy family friend. Said professor had pulled himself from his book to glare at me for my _public-display-of-affection-with-a-Potter_.

"He's my guest," I replied haughtily. "Madame Bones approved _your_ guests just as she did mine. Besides _my_ guest is far less annoying than _yours_."

"Awe, c'mon, Sirius has been great! Remember the Yule log yesterday?"

Severus took this as his opportunity to snarl at Harry and join the conversation. "Potter, a house elf trussed like a turkey, even _with_ the addition of that patheticscarlet bow, is _not_ in any way shape or form, a Yule log! Though, as you are _the_ Harry Potter, I understand that you may be too busy with fame and fortune to pay attention to such a trivial thing."

"I knew you'd be a big drain on the Holiday spirit." Harry glared at him. "I mean, just look at you! You _could_ wear a Christmas jumper like a normal person but you're still in school robes!"

"These are not school robes," Severus replied disdainfully. "_This_ is my _normal_ attire."

Harry blinked at him. "It's like you stepped out of a gothic horror novel. Shouldn't you be off haunting a crypt somewhere instead of ruining our fun?"

"As if I would leave my godson with a Potter, a werewolf and an imbecile."

"You're forgetting the aurors. Most of them from Gryffindor eh?" Harry replied gleefully. "Must be nice to see a few old students."

"As I predicted, the aurors are too busy dealing with their charge, Lucius, to assist my godson in any way," Severus hissed.

Granted, he had a point. The deal Potter and my parents had worked out with the Ministry was still a mystery to me, but the Auror force was_ non-negotiable_ (and useless). As predicted, their addition had caused father to erupt in a snit as he was the only one they insisted on keeping under watchful 'protection'. We'd started out with a team of three men and two women, but mother had immediately taken over the youngest male for herself as a sort of 'Personal Assistant'. He was a rabbit like bloke who soon developed a noticeable twitch. As for the other two…well, they were caught with Father in a rather compromising position near the pool, and that was the last we saw of _them_.

Since then, we'd only seen female aurors. It wasn't a great loss to me, except for the fact that we now housed an annoying auror who delighted in changing her hair color every time she saw me in the halls. She was related but cut off for good reason I'd say.

"Everyone having a grand time then?" An annoyingly cheery voice boomed from the doorway. Black and Lupin entered the room, flushed and slipping out of overcoats as they shook copious amounts of slush onto our ancient and well preserved Persian rug.

"Sirius! Come on in!" Harry beamed while Severus brought his book back to his face. Perhaps he hoped that by blocking out all sight of the man, Black would disappear. Granted, the book _was_ fairly large as it was a sturdy, leather potions manual, obviously centuries old. My professor was such a brilliant man to study on a holiday!

"We went caroling!" Black announced to the room (as if anyone cared) before sprawling inelegantly onto great-great Aunt Eloises' fainting couch. As this was situated directly next to Severus' wing back chair, the professor immediately reacted by shifting away.

"Though, in retrospect, one could assume that there wouldn't be a great deal of interest in such merriments in a neighborhood such as this." Lupin murmured in that quiet voice of his, while taking a seat near the fire. The golden glow lit his hair and face, giving him a more cheerful cast than he usually sported. But then, _anyone_ would look tired if they were forced to spend too much time with that Sirius Black.

"True, true. Draco, your neighbors _are_ rather stuck up," Black said cheerfully.

"What neighbors?" I asked suspiciously, wondering where on earth Black had dragged Lupin. Our estate was quite large, and I highly doubted the pair could have reached another dwelling on foot within the hour they'd been gone, especially not in the snow.

"You know, your neighbors, the family in that long building with all the traps and 'no trespassing' signs."

"Though they had a certain rustic charm," Lupin murmured appreciatively.

"Please don't tell me you went to the 'forbidden barns'?" I goggled.

"Barns? That would explain the dogs then, quite an unfriendly lot you have there. I half expected to have a crazed old wizard with a staff coming after us next!" Black explained while craning his head slightly backwards to get a better view of Snape's book. Severus immediately snapped the book shut and with a disgruntled air stalked to a seat next to Lupin before resuming reading. Lupin and Black exchanged a look.

"Dogs?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Yep, big black beasts, fiery eyes. Took a bit to lose them!" Black answered.

Oh for the love of! "Blitsy!" I called. A moment later the house elf popped into view. "This idiot has let the Hell Hounds loose, round them up and corral them at once!" I was beginning to get a headache. Pity it was only ten o'clock in the morning.

Harry murmured something consolingly in my ear about Black not meaning to cause any trouble and gave me a shoulder rub. Mmm… and to think I might have been _this_ close to losing this!

"Severus, studying during the holidays?" Lupin commented in that smooth voice of his. "I commend you for your diligence. Your students must appreciate such a dedicated teacher."

Snape closed his book with a decisive snap and turned to Lupin, his black eyes glittering in the glow from the fire, which _would_ have also cast a rosy look to _his_ sallow cheeks, if such a thing were possible. "_You_ were a Professor, Lupin, however…short…your stay. You must know that the student population would not know diligence if it was forced down their lackadaisical throats."

There was a snort from Black at this, but Lupin nodded amiably. "But, Severus, not all students are the same."

"Of course they are not all the same. Most are not only lazy dunderheads but outright juvenile delinquents." His black eyes traveled to Harry at this who bristled at the allegation.

"Harry dear?" A high pitched voice called from the fire place and a head appeared. It was definitely a woman, with a round face and rather pleasant features.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley, how is your morning?" Harry asked politely and I cringed slightly.

Drat. The part of the Holiday I'd been dreading. Weasleys over for Christmas Eve… Potter's suggestion had been given the stamp of approval by that bloody Ministry fool, Bones. Stupid Ministry. But the Weasleys weren't supposed to come until tonight!

"I thought now would be a good time, I just know I need to get the turkey in to give it enough time to cook and I haven't even started on the pies! If the Malfoys wouldn't mind us coming just a tad bit early?"

Harry promptly clapped a hand over my mouth while he cheerfully answered, "Of course not Mrs. Weasley, come right over! The Malfoys are looking forward to having you over!"

"Potter!" I hissed around his hand, "What is going on! Why are they coming early? She doesn't mean to cook in our kitchens, does she? _Nobody_ cooks there!" Well, no _humans_ at least, and truthfully I wasn't even sure if House Elves counted as sentient creatures, what with all the ugly.

"Well, _she_ does. Homemade stuff is much better than house elf food, you'll see," he argued.

I sighed in response.

A plump woman stepped from the fireplace, holding a large, covered dish in her hands. She handed the container to Lupin and began swishing at her robes, muttering about being covered in soot. The robes were a frightful combination of colors, just as one would expect of a Weasley.

The next person was more familiar, as he was that enemy of all things 'Malfoy', Arthur Weasley. He immediately shook Black's hand while slipping out of his own patched robe in a sheepish manner. He _should _feel ashamed, forcing himself into the house of the family he'd been unjustly persecuting for ages!

I was pulled to my feet by Potter, who was then enveloped in a squishy looking hug by the plump woman who called him _Harry dear. _Then, the daft woman actually started brimming with _tears_ (_tears_!) at 'seeing him again after all those weeks apart! And had he been getting enough to eat?'

More red headed spawn were popping out of the fireplace at an alarming rate, each holding various battered pans and bags full of bizarre looking foodstuffs. The Weasel was holding a bag of raw carrots. RAW CARROTS! I was glaring at both the Weasel and his bag of raw vegetables heatedly (and being ignored in favor of Black) before I was yanked into warm, soft arms. I gaped at the shoulder my head was currently stuffed into, seeing strands of red hair falling softly from the woman's bun.

Mrs. Weasley was…hugging me?

"Draco, you're so thin as well. Harry has told me all about the difficult a time you've been having these last few years. And he was right!"

"Wuh…" I managed to articulate as I was now held at arms length, my vision full of a plump face and kind brown eyes.

"Oh! I see my first order of business is going to be getting a bit of food into you! Why look at you, so thin a breeze could knock you over!"

"Er…"

"Now, Harry dear, I was hoping you and Draco could help us with the second floo trip, we've a few more bags to bring before we can get started in the kitchen!" She beamed.

"Sounds great!" Harry beamed right back while I coughed around the hand that had again appeared over my mouth.

I managed to sneak away from the intended manual labor under the guise of getting the house elves to ready their rooms. They actually _believed_ me, as if the house elves weren't standing ready, everything having been prepared the moment they stepped through the floo! Ha! Silly, poverty stricken Weasleys. Instead, I hid in a seldom used portion of our library, moping about the situation and trying to figure out _what_ exactly I was supposed to get all of the new additions for Christmas.

It only occurred to me several (quiet) hours later that it might be a good idea to let my parents know that the house was infested by Weasleys. Besides, if _I_ was to be harassed, _they_ would have to share the pain. Deciding to bestow this 'gift' upon father first, I headed for the pool, expecting to find him sunning himself (to no avail I might add, as Malfoys never tan) under palm trees and a ceiling charmed to look like the Caribbean sky.

To this day Lucius insists that the sky lights and the pool itself were _not_ muggle inventions, thank you very much.

I found Black instead, standing in a corner of the pool room with what looked like a green, shiny rope.

"What is _that?"_ I asked, immediately suspicious.

"Heya Draco! Oh this? A hose. Muggle invention. For gardens!" he replied while affixing a silver facet with a lever on the gaping end. He then stood and twirled the object in his hands while grinning at me. Again, I reiterate, completely mad. As a loon.

Ignoring the fact that he was using a garden tool in the pool room I rallied, "You brought a muggle invention into _our_ house?"

"Draco, you do realize the entire room has muggle written all over it, don't you? I mean look at the hot tub! Didn't know you old crusty family types had it in you!"

I thought about arguing to save family pride, but sighed instead, remembering the computers father had hidden away for his bizarre sexual fetish. "Tell me about it. What are you _doing_ anyway?"

"Shhh!" he said, grabbing me by one arm and peering around a large potted palm. There were voices coming from the far end of the pool room, near the Japanese Koi pond.

"What's going on?" I whispered.

"Remus' trying to convince Snivellus to try the pool. Fat lot of good it'll do him though, as if that slimy snake would try something new!"

The voices were now closer and I _could_ make out the soft voice of Remus Lupin. "It really is quite beneficial exercise. I understand swimming back and forth works muscle groups that otherwise aren't used."

"But would not a swim in a lake produce the same effect? I see no need to immerse myself in water polluted by muggles to such an unnatural shade of blue."

"Right. Well, there is also the hot tub. _Very_ beneficial at relaxing sore muscles. See, the pulsating jets?"

"Are you _mad_, Lupin? You wish me to disrobe into what appears to be a large tub of Draught of Living Death?"

Lupin's soft laughter was heard. "I swear it's nothing like that, but you don't have to try anything you don't want to."

"At least you have gotten one thing correct this morning…though I had not known the Malfoys were so…inclined. I will have to make sure I watch Draco a bit more closely lest he inadvertently fall into one of these new death traps that Lucius has designed."

There was a swish of robes and Severus in his usual dark attire passed the potted pot we were crouched behind, along with Lupin decked in a fuzzy brown jumper.

I opened my mouth to greet the Professor, but was pushed aside as Black lunged forward, the muggle hose in hand. With a maniacal laugh he aimed the silver end at Severus, and a stream of water flew forward to completely drench the potions master.

Time seemed to slow as the last few drops of water continued its slow arc over Severus, who now looked half drowned, with hair sticking to his face and rivulets running down his neck to disappear into his customary black vest. His robes no longer swirled, but were clinging to his legs as a small puddle began to form beneath him.

Black was now back to doing the twirly thing with the hose, before he blew on the end and winked at the professor.

"Severus!" I called, but was stopped by the dark eyes he turned to us, almost hidden beneath the wet bangs covering half of his face.

"Black," Severus hissed coldly. I could _feel_ my fingers getting frostbitten.

"Fancy seeing you here Snape!" Black exclaimed happily as he plunged headlong towards assisted suicide.

"Indeed," came the low reply, as Severus lifted his sodden arms to give them a shake, his eyes never leaving Black.

"Sorry about getting you all wet there. Was just cleaning the pool area! No hard feelings, eh?"

"Cleaning? How…_considerate_ of you. But, you seem to be a bit _clumsy_ today, _Black_," Severus purred, menace in each syllable.

"Yep, but hey, I hate to see you all soaking wet like that in all those layers. Luckily, I just happen to have a change of clothing right here!" And from the pocket of his worn jeans, Black pulled an impossibly small article of clothing. It was a brilliant Gryffindor red.

"What…is that…abomination?" Severus asked.

"It's for swimming. Briefs! Popular in European resorts I hear. See… nice and stretchy to accommodate any body part, no matter how generous," Black replied while demonstrating by stretching the tiny red object between his hands. Then he gave Severus another long look. "It doesn't matter if it's _not_ generous either, you know, in any case…"

"And you expect me to wear that miniscule thing after you have drenched me with freezing water in the middle of December?" Severus had raised his voice, but he was smartly ignoring Black's immature comments. He probably was just jealous of Severus anyway!

Black heard the venom in _that_ comment and frowned for a second before brightening again. "But it's nice and warm in here, like a mini part of the tropics. In fact, in those wet robes, I bet you're feeling _really_ hot and would _love_ to change into something lighter. Heck, if you don't like the briefs, I bought something else for you though I didn't think you'd go for it."

He searched in the pockets of his jeans again, this time coming up with a small black triangle. It appeared to be a string with a pouch. Black beamed and held it out for Severus.

"And that would be?" Severus asked dryly.

"A thong! It'll be just like being in the water naked! I bet you'll really like it once you try it!"

Severus didn't reply for a moment and I watched in fascination as a drop of water crept from his forehead all the way down to the tip of his overly large nose. There was a rustle of wet robes and he soon had his wand out and pointed at Black, who was _still_ holding the muggle contraption and grinning. With a flick of his wrist and a muttered word, Severus had Black levitated and soon had him dangling over the blue water of the swimming pool.

SPLASH!

Black was dropped headfirst into the water, muggle jeans, tight white shirt and all. He came up sputtering, but then _waggled_ his eyebrows at Severus.

"Are we even now? Come on, you know you want to go swimming!" he called out jovially.

Severus growled, low in his throat. "Even? We are nowhere near 'even', you imbecilic prat."

Lupin stepped between the two figures to place a hand on Snape's chest. "Severus, Sirius, let's calm down now. I'm sure it was an accident," he began.

Severus poked Lupin's chest with a bony finger, pushing him back a step. "No doubt _you_ were in on this humiliating little scheme? Don't play innocent, wolf, you won't be able to hide forever."

He turned and lurched wetly from the room while Lupin looked after him helplessly before bending to help his companion–in-crime up. "Idiot," Lupin said, sounding fond. "What were you thinking? Being an arse isn't going to do it."

Black snorted, "Yeah, like being nice does?"

I frowned at their confusing conversation before turning to run after my godfather, determined to offer any help he could require. I managed to follow Severus' dripping trail for two corridors before it disappeared. Drat, he had remembered that he actually was a wizard.

Perhaps it was a good time to commiserate with mother about the sorry turn of Weasley-related-events? I'd undoubtedly find her in the ball room we were using for the party tonight, fluttering about and making sure everything was perfect.

Unfortunately, I found the Weasley twins instead, exiting the room while snickering together. This did not bode well. I gave them suspicious glares, which they returned with Cheshire like grins.

"Don't you want-"

"-to go in?" They asked while pointing at the ball room. Every nerve in my body was shouting that I did _not_ want to enter any room with the twins while alone.

"No, no," I replied weakly. "Ummm…Tea. It's that time." It was a good excuse, as it _was_ approaching that time.

They exchanged a glance.

"We'll walk with you then," one said. I was getting suspicious, but wasn't sure how to get rid of them without _seeming_ suspicious.

"Hey, mate," the twin to my left said, draping his arm around my shoulders as we passed a portrait of Caesar Augustus Malfoy (who, in opposition to his namesake had spent most of his life hiding in a wine cellar from his wife. On the bright side, this had directly contributed to the excellent quality of the Malfoy wine cellars). It would have to have been George, because he was again helpfully wearing a red sweater with a large 'G' stitched on it.

"Yes?"

"We were wondering if you had …a field?"

"A Quidditch field? Of course. We have three."

The twin to my right blinked. "Not that kind of field, mate. Though that's brilliant! But, do you have something like a watcha call it… a stable?" I had thought he was Fred, but he also had a sweater with a large 'G' on it, only his was in blue.

"Well, we do have several stables, but why would you need one?" I asked suspiciously.

Unless, they wanted to move out? Maybe the luxury of the Manor was too much for them. In fact, might not then _all_ of the Weasleys feel better moving out into one of our stables? It would be just like being at home for them, all dusty and full of straw and animals, and finally the Manor would be quiet and clean again!

The twins exchanged glances again.

"No reason," they said in unison. It was really creepy when they did that.

We finally arrived in the kitchen, but the twins boggling behavior continued. They were dropping hints about needing _hay_ now, which had me hoping that they were planning on making beds outside for themselves, but the conversation was going in circles as they weren't getting my subtle hints for them to sleep in the greenhouse. Mother grew some of the loveliest plants there. They had never failed in their job of consuming unwanted guests on tour before!

Mrs. Weasley was pulling a tray of scones from the oven, which was a new sight for me, mother never having touched the stove. (Baking was said to cause wrinkles.) The entire kitchen smelled delicious, like bread and melted butter and cinnamon.

Before I could protest, she'd forced me into a chair, poured me a cup of tea and fussed over me for being too thin. She slapped the twins' hands when they reached for a scone, and instead carefully dished a piece onto a plate for me. (It was a fruit scone! With raisins and nuts!)

"Here you are dear. I made this for you." She smiled as she passed me a plate with clotted cream and jam and I realized that I was to eat tea in the _kitchen_. And, that she had made the scones for _me_ with her _own hands_!

"Thank you Mrs. Weasley, this is the most delicious scone I've ever had," I managed to stop eating long enough to pay her a compliment. "It's very light and buttery."

"How nice of you to notice! It's an old Prewett recipe of my mother's."

She then pushed a plate of sandwiches toward me, but it was unlike any plate of tea sandwiches _I'd_ ever encountered. Instead of tiny crust-less squares, there were large chunks of rustic bread stuffed with meats and cheeses. As I plopped a tasty looking chicken sandwich on my plate, the door burst open, spoiling our peaceful mood.

Ron Weasley stomped in, red in the face and wearing a shirt with _slightly_ more holes than usual. I shrugged at his appearance as there was nothing unusual about it.

"You!" he screeched, pointing at the twins (who had somehow managed to get the rest of the scones on their plates along with half of the sandwiches without their mother noticing).

They looked up innocently.

"Yes Ronnikins?" The twin in the red asked, managing to smile around the large bite he'd taken.

"You put a goat in my room! It ate half of my suitcase!"

"I'm not sure-"

"-I know what you're talking about." They plastered extremely innocent expressions on their faces.

"You did it! It had a tag! _Property of Fred and George_."

"You should sit down and rest, Ronnikins."

"You're looking unwell."

The twins gave Weasley very concerned looks, which caused him to turn even redder and utter a strangled "Die!" while lunging at them.

"Ronald! You're embarrassing yourself in front of dear Draco," Mrs. Weasley admonished as she deftly yanked him back by one ear.

"_Dear_ _Draco_?" Ron rubbed his ear and took a seat.

"And you!" She rounded on the twins. "Move whatever you've put in Ron's room out. I don't want to know _how_ you got a goat in here, but _move it out_!"

The twins pretended to be contrite while I enjoyed the novel experience of the Weasel getting _just_ what was coming to him. And the beauty of it was that I hadn't had to do anything!

"Corned Beef! Not again!" The Weasel suddenly spoke up, looking from his plate with a fish-like grimace.

"Enough Ronald! Just look at Draco here with his lovely manners. You should be ashamed to look so poorly in front of him. _He_ isn't complaining."

"Oh, but I could never complain about _your_ cooking, Mrs. Weasley." I applauded myself as I said this _without_ smirking at the Weasel.

"Call me Molly." She beamed at me while the Weasel made rude comments under his breath.

I smiled back. Perhaps it was the way the Weasel was fuming at the both of us, or perhaps it was the delicious food, but for some reason it was _easy_ to smile at Molly Weasley.

* * *

A/N

Has been betaed by the talented Cimmerian Sorceress! The Hell Hounds section is especially inspired by her!


	27. Christmas Part Two

Chapter 27: Christmas at the Malfoys (Part Two)

* * *

Christmas Eve dinner had been a quiet affair marred only by Harry's insistence on kissing me in inappropriate locations, i.e. _at_ the dinner table between _every_ bite. I'd tried explaining time and time again that he should stop being so touchy-feely in public (and more importantly; in front of my parents), but it didn't seem as though it had sunk into his thick Gryffindor skull yet. 

Additionally, the glaring contest across the butter dish between father and Arthur Weasley had been cause for some concern. Fortunately, Severus was able to coax father into light conversation. Consequently they passed the meal enjoyably enough, subtly insulting each other and everyone around them.

On the other hand, poor mother had been practically _surrounded_ by Weasleys. She had seemed content enough though, complimenting Molly Weasley on her 'well developed' eldest sons and giving both Bill and 'Charlie' sultry looks over her wine glass. The important tidbit here is that the Weasleys had actually not named their son Charles, but '_Charlie'_!

We gathered in front of _the_ Christmas tree (not to be mistaken for any of the other Christmas trees scattered around, as this tree contained actual presents and not simply boxes filled with dark magic contraband cleverly hidden from the aurors) while house elves passed out wine and glasses of pumpkin juice. "Let us start the event with our guests," Mother began, while gesturing for the unwelcome interlopers to exchange presents.

My parents had gone the old fashioned route of not bothering to actually shop for gifts, and had provided Galleons in small velvet sacks. I'd not had time to actually buy anything for any of the Weasleys either, and truthfully couldn't be bothered, so I'd just used the manor to supply my gifting needs. Truthfully, I'd had a surprisingly good time picking out my gifts (my method being that the perfect gift was whatever I found too ugly to continue its stay in the manor.)

Ginny Weasley gave a small yelp as she set off one of the hexes on the small (and wretched looking) gilded mirror I'd given her. Oops. Perhaps I should have removed _some_ of the hexes on my gifts? At the time I'd rationalized that the whole family was basically a herd of aurors. They probably _liked_ getting around nasty curses. The room was soon filled with the sound of spell work as Arthur and Bill Weasley pooled their talents together to de-hex their gifts while Charlie took the easier route of leaving his in the box after a quick 'thank-you' sent my way. Disappointingly, Lupin managed to de-hex both his _and_ the one I'd _specially_ picked for Black. There went that permanent contraceptive hex!

"Mate," a Weasley twin stated, leaning over with his brother to show me the lump of gold and jewels that was supposed to abstractly represent 'rebirth'. In my eyes, the 'sculpture' represented what it actually was: a half melted pile of ugly goo that had previously been pretty, pretty gold. I hate it when people with no artistic talent try to con money out of people with no artistic eye. (i.e. mother). "This isn't _real_, is it?"

"I'm afraid it is, hideous isn't it?" I responded.

"But…are all these rubies and diamonds and is this solid gold?"

"Of course."

"But this has got to be worth thousands of Galleons," a twin argued.

"Our joke shop…we can actually start it..." the other trailed off and they moved to a corner to whisper heatedly. With a shrug, I turned away to see that Molly Weasley was just about to open _my_ present to her, a tall box which she was eyeing uneasily.

I'd been looking forward to this! After the lovely tea, I'd known _just_ what to get a sweet woman like her. Hopefully her happiness at my thoughtful gift wouldn't cause her to cry _too_ much.

Looking a bit unsure, the red head carefully loosened the ribbon. At this, the box gave a shake before bursting open to reveal a gasping house elf. I'd even spelled Blitzy's skin to shine red and green in honor of the holiday season. Though, this had rather made her look like a demented Christmas ornament.

"A…house elf?" Molly Weasley asked, sounding just as shocked as I could have hoped.

"Yes Mrs. Weasley. She can help you around the house. I imagine your family doesn't help out as much as they _could_," I replied, without adding _and this way you can focus on making cakes to send me instead of feeding your wretched brood_, as it might be considered a bit _rude_.

"Yes, well, thank you, Draco. I've always wanted a house elf! And it's quite… er… lovely…" Mrs. Weasley trailed off and I knew it was just to stop herself from crying at such a thoughtful gift. I settled back, satisfied.

The rest of the gift giving exchange was a bit of a blur. I had my usual amount of useless, but oh-so-fun trinkets from my parents, and Potter was quite speechless as he opened my gift for him: a new wardrobe (really though, that was more of a gift for those of us who have to look at him.) I was told that his gift for _me_ would be given in private. This meant, of course, that it was something so horribly unsuitable that my parents would frown terribly. I couldn't wait!

* * *

The Christmas eve party was in full swing not two hours later, and after several rounds of champagne and mulled wine, everyone was red cheeked and merry. 

Well, except for Severus Snape. Three glasses of wine hadn't mellowed him one bit, and he remained as dour and sarcastic as ever, snapping at any passers by. His book had returned, accompanied by my present: a reading light. It allowed the user to clearly see the book without causing any visible illumination. Thus, Severus could read _and_ lurk in the darkness, ready to spring upon unwary passers-by _at-the-same-time_!

In opposition to the professional introvert in the corner, the party had become a rowdy affair. I blamed the Weasleys. They'd even bribed the band my parents had hired! Instead of the classical sonatas we ought to be enjoying, there was loud, erratic music, which _involved_ a lot of incomprehensible singing on the part of the lead singer of the band and _caused_ a lot of loud, erratic dancing on the part of the Weasleys.

If stomping around the room while spilling drinks all over yourself, the floor and the house elves could be called 'dancing'.

"Want to join them?" Harry asked while gesturing toward the ballroom floor. I let my eyes rest on a very energetic Black, who was trying to start a line dance with the few house elves that hadn't yet fled in terror.

"No," I shuddered. I, like my parents and Severus, had not ventured onto the dance floor. Of course, neither had Harry and _the_ Weasel, but that was mainly due to their disturbingly prolonged fascination with the appetizer tables.

"Anyway, if I recall correctly you can't dance to save your life."

"True, but I thought _you_ could dance while I could just shuffle my feet about and give you a good groping," he replied with a grin.

"And you think that would be appropriate?" I countered.

"Why not?" He leaned down and whispered, "Besides most of them are pissed." He then slipped a loose arm around my waist and playfully tugged me toward the dance floor.

"Mate, quit trying to grope your boyfriend and hide us quick!"

Great. The Weasley Twins. Hadn't I seen enough of them this weekend?

They pushed Harry and me apart to duck behind us. Being that they were both of the muscular variety, and I was unfortunately _not_, it was not working out for them as well as they had obviously hoped.

"What did you do now?" Harry quirked an eyebrow at the twin hiding behind him.

"Nothing." The twin stoutly assured him.

"Well, nothing _much," _his bother argued. "Problem is _he's_ got no sense of humor."

"Not that _that_ should stop any curious lad, right Fred?"

"Right!" replied the twin behind me (Fred, apparently, though it was harder than usual to tell since both twins were attired in what they considered 'dress robes'. Unfortunately, the robes were open to reveal that they'd chosen _neon_ as the color of choice for their cummerbunds.). He then pulled out a familiar looking book. Oh no. They'd stolen Severus' 'Most Potente Potions' book from which he'd been studying all day!

They squatted down over their stolen loot and began reading, carrot colored hair blocking my view of the text.

"I bet there'll be loads of useful stuff in here!" Fred crowed, while nudging his brother to begin reading.

"_It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife," _George read aloud.

"But…what's a wife got to do with potions?" A perplexed Fred asked.

"Well…he's into dodgy stuff right? Maybe if you're evil you marry just so you can chop her into bits for potions and that's how you get the fortune?" His brother replied in a thoughtful air.

"No mate, look, it says _Pride and Prejudice_ by _Jane Austin_ on the inside sleeve here. Are you sure we stole his potions book?"

"'course!" George affirmed, snapping the book shut to point at the clearly labeled book: _Most Potente Potions. The Master's Addition. Now with 10 more fermenting!_

A shadow fell over us.

"I do not pretend to know the depths of the idiocy that has currently engulfed your feeble minds, but I _would_ return what you have stolen if I were you. And, I would do so _now._" The deep voice barreled through us, bringing with it promises of dark corners and unspeakable acts. I know I wasn't the only one who shivered. (Though maybe I was the only one who did so because the voice was so darn _sexy_.)

Severus Snape towered over us, robes swirling, eyes blazing and his scowl just a tad more pronounced than usual. I heard rustling as the twins hastily stood behind me, and I waited for the excuses and apologies to begin, but after a short silence there was instead…_giggling_. Perhaps they were suffering from such fear that it was inducing spastic laughter?

"Finally!" Fred crowed. The twins smirked at the potions professor, pointedly looking up at a clump of mistletoe hanging above his head.

Severus followed their glances to the sprig just inches from the top of his head. He glared, obviously finding many faults with its greenness and festivity.

"Mistletoe?" He sneered. "Next are we to be regaled by your wondrous adventures as to spiking egg nog and switching stockings? How…droll." He made a move as if he was actually going to box their ears, but aside from his robe swaying, nothing happened.

"Can't move, can you?" George laughed.

"What. Have. You. Done?" Severus snarled, his face livid.

"It's just mistletoe, Professor," Fred replied stoutly before leaning toward George to stage whisper, _"though we shoulda rethought the target, __**he'll**__ probably be there awhile…I mean, who'd wanna kiss __**him**__?"_

"Is there problem?"

As if on cue, a concerned looking Remus Lupin approached the group, his 'responsible professor' mask firmly on at the sight of two snickering twin terrors and a homicidal looking potions master. He'd been dancing with Ginny Weasley, and was probably the only one aside from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who had actually been _dancing_. Even I'd had to admit the patient way he'd been teaching the young girl the steps had been sweet. Severus scowled more fiercely at his presence.

"No Sir!" Fred assured Lupin.

George continued. "It's all part of Christmas. Mistletoe, you know? Poor Professor Snape must have accidentally walked underneath a patch that appears to have been mysteriously charmed."

"Don't know how _that_ happened, but it looks like he's stuck!" Fred mused.

"Yeah, just one of those strange occurrences," George finished.

"This brings me back. I remember the Marauders used to do this kind of stuff. There was always a… trick to it." Lupin had the audacity to smile about the situation, his brown eyes softening as he reminisced.

The werewolf stepped closer to our potions professor, which caused Severus to stop growling at the twins to frown uneasily at the other man.

"What are you doing, wolf?" he bit out.

"Oh, well, erm… if you'll just hold still I'll get you free in a jiffy, Severus." Lupin smiled again, but there was something off in his eyes…something I didn't trust, and wasn't he leaning a little _too_ close to the professor?

What happened next must have been a horrible accident. That was the only explanation. For Remus Lupin suddenly leant forward and somehow his mouth slipped and latched onto Severus'. They kissed for what was the most horrible minute of my young life. I moaned in dismay at the assault my poor professor was suffering. I knew the others felt the same, for Harry gave a whimper, while the twins stopped guffawing long enough to emit squeaks.

Lupin pulled back from my professor with a loud '_smack'_ as their lips separated. He smiled again. "There! That should have done the trick! Can you move now?"

Severus seamed flabbergasted, and his kiss reddened mouth opened and closed silently. He looked _almost_ like a dear caught in the headlights until black rage settled over his face. "Of course I'm still stuck you idiot! What were you _thinking_?"

"Oh," Lupin scratched at his light brown curls in confusion, "I was sure that would do the trick. Maybe I should try again, just to be sure?"

"If you seek death." Severus readied his hands threateningly before him.

There was now snickering from the twins, who apparently bounced back from horrific sights quite quickly.

"That's what's so brilliant. Kissing doesn't make it stop!" Crowed George.

"We wanted to see how far people would go," Fred replied before George elbowed him. "Not that we had anything to do with this mysterious occurrence."

Severus, apparently having realized that though his lower body was immobile, his hands had been free the entire time, drew his wand, and with a casual flick blasted the mistletoe, sending it to the floor in smoky ruins.

A large, twisted smile took over the pale man's face, revealing a row of slightly crooked teeth. He took a step forward, taking aim at the boys and hitting two for the price of one with a hex I'd never heard of (_fervescio_), which sent them to the ground, shaking and moaning about the heat.

No one else in the room had apparently noticed anything amiss, despite the quivering, moaning balls of freckled skin that was the Weasley twins. But then, he'd said it so quietly, and hexed them so efficiently I wondered if _I_ was seeing things.

Lupin then made the mistake of smiling and murmuring something about 'no hard feelings, Severus?'

That was when I learned that adults went down just as quickly as teenagers under _fervescio_. Ha! Some _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ teacher he was turning out to be! Where was his defending _now_?

Severus lifted his book from the floor between bony fingers, looking disdainfully at the twitching people around us before turning to me. "Enough. Draco, you are on your own for the evening. However, feel free to come to my bedroom tonight if the other party goers become… too much."

"Oh ho!, Snivy, is that a general invitation?" crowed Black, who had apparently decided helping Lupin stand was more important that teaching our house elves the 'electric slide'.

At that, Severus turned and efficiently hexed Black, who went down even faster than Lupin.

"Too hot…" he gurgled from the floor, trying to pull his shirt off without actually using any buttons. As a bonus, he'd landed directly on his friend, so again Severus had managed two for the price of one.

Severus exited the room in great haste, knocking over a house plant and a bust of Morgana on the way out. The twins, apparently having recovered (though if that was the case, they _should_ have been doing _something_ about putting their shirts back on and zipping up their pants), pulled out a piece of paper.

"Right. We'll have to make it so they can't move their arms next time." One said while the other nodded. They wandered away enthusiastically writing notes despite the occasional body tremors. I pulled Harry away from the pile on the floor that contained his major adult role models and shook him slightly.

"Your pervy professor Lupin just kissed my godfather!" I stated, horrified.

"I know," Harry replied, a haunted look coming into his eyes. We relived the_ Awful Occurrence _together.

"That was…" he trailed off.

"Disturbing," I finished for him helpfully.

He dropped boneless onto the nearest couch, a surprisingly comfortable dark leather number (which may or may not have contained any actual leather, depending on the mood mother was in when she bought it). I stepped past the coffee table laden with Christmas Crackers to join him.

Harry shuddered, looking tormented. He obviously felt bad about the improper behavior displayed by his godfather and friend.

"You know how some couples have 'wish lists'…" he began in a strained voice.

"Not just couples! I make a wish list every year for Christmas," I assured him.

" No. Er…not a _gift_ wish list. A…I guess…a sexual wish list. You know? Most couples do it as a joke and pick celebrities and people from books and stuff? Good for a laugh and no one takes it seriously, because it's impossible anyway." His face was turning red.

"Oh," I replied, not having heard of this strange practice before. What would be the point? My 'wish list' of impossible people would be empty as I couldn't imagine anyone turning down a Malfoy!

"And umm…so Sirius and Remus, I'm sure you've noticed they're together?"

"Sure, they're together all the…oh." I understood what he meant and blushed slightly. They were together as in together in a _relationship_.

Poor professor Lupin! Even an accursed werewolf deserved better than Sirius Black!

"Well, apparently Sirius and Remus got drunk in a pub and were joking around about this with friends and they both made lists. You know, with a few celebrities…and other 'impossible to get people'." Flustered, he pushed a hand through his black hair, causing it to spike on one side. "And they found they _both_ had listed Snape!"

"Ew!"

"Exactly! With Remus, I know it's because he's always felt bad about how they bullied Snape when they were at Hogwart's… but Sirius… I don't know what he's thinking! It's just disgusting! I mean, why would anyone want to sleep with that greasy git?"

"What?" I said, shocked and insulted. I hate it when people call Severus 'greasy'. He can't help it that his hair has a natural shine that might be mistaken for 'greasy' in the wrong lighting. Like sunlight.

"Severus is not the disgusting part of this equation! Your pervy caretakers want to paw my poor godfather! Oh, it is hard for the beautiful!"

Harry stopped messing up his hair and turned to me. His face was still red, and his dress robes were slightly mussed. "What?" he squawked.

"You heard me," I replied, miffed.

"Draco…" Harry said in a strained voice. "Snape is a repulsive individual. I'm not just talking about his personality here."

"He is not!"

"The nose."

"Pftt! Little pug noses are for peasants. Severus has a _real_ nose, a _man's_ nose! A nose that can differentiate between ingredients with just one sniff! You've heard, I'm sure, how important that is for potion making."

"No, no I haven't. I have never heard of anything about that and I'm pretty sure you're making that up."

I didn't let the comment, which was disturbingly close to the truth, stop my persuasive argument. This was for a Slytherin! More importantly, a Slytherin who still spoke to him! "Well, you probably hadn't heard of it because it's such an _old_ saying. And… a pureblood one at that, but, it's true, all the masters had large and imposing noses."

"…Right…okay…whatever. Then, what about his hair? I'm sure you've noticed the fact that he stopped washing it after he hit puberty. A neat freak like you has to be bothered by that! After all, I remember that you used to take _hours_ after Quidditch in the Slytherin showers."

"Yes, but, I was worried about smelling like sweat, Slytherin uniforms retain moisture due to the illegal anti-bludger charms. Wait, how did you know about that? Were you _spying_ on the Slytherins?!" I asked in outrage.

Harry fidgeted and averted his eyes slightly. "No I wasn't. It's…common knowledge."

"Ha! Likely story! Well, sucks to be a cheating Gryffindor like you, but Slytherins _never_ discuss game plans in the showers." I retorted honestly enough, for Slytherins had no 'game plan' besides 1) _disabling opponents by grievous bodily harm _and_ 2) cheating_ _without being caught_. "Anyway, Severus _does_ wash his hair. It's just that his hair is extremely glossy. It's a sign of health."

"_Glossy_? There's a word for his hair and 'glossy' is not it. And what about his skin? Those crooked teeth? His frightening beetle-like eyes?"

"Pale was once considered the sign of a well bred person and everyone needs a few…distinguishing characteristics. Shows that he's a person of quality."

Harry sighed, apparently realizing that I had won the argument. He stood and muttered "I'm getting a drink…no, drinks. Many drinks. I'll be right back."

I settled back on the couch, wrestling with a Christmas Cracker to pass the time until Harry came back to concede my victory in the argument. It was then that I realized that I could see my parents across the ballroom floor. In fact, if I leant to the right slightly to peer around the branches of a Christmas tree, I had a _very_ clear shot of them lounging on a couch against the opposite wall. I stared. Something was…_off_.

My parents were sitting casually and chatting with one of the older Weasley boys. That was surely not cause for alarm? It was not the oldest boy, but the second, 'Charlie'. Adults sitting on a couch talking together…nothing out of the ordinary, right?

I squinted. And sure, Charlie was bright red, but _that_ was normal for Weasleys! I mean, whenever _I_ talked to the Weasel he was always red and sputtering and shouting and hexing himself.

But it was rather disconcerting that my parents were both leaning so _close_ to Charlie.

I watched mother take a sip of wine and reach casually over to playwith the boy's hair, as if that was a _normal_ thing to do with a young man half her age. But Mother was the _least_ of his worries, for he _really _should have been concerned about father blatantly feeling up his thigh.

I blinked, hoping the scene would change.

Nope. My parents were still double teaming a Weasley. And the Weasley was apparently too stupid to run away. I watched as father ran a hand along the dragon tamer's broad shoulders and leaned closer to whisper something in his ear. Charlie blushed more brilliantly and looked down at his wine. Mother and father exchanged a predatory glance over his head.

I almost felt _sorry_ for the Weasley.

As feeling sorry for a Weasley was too horrible to contemplate, I decided to take action.

I moved a foot to the left on the comfortable leather couch.

The festive Christmas tree now completely blocked my parents from sight.

Problem solved!

"Here you are," Harry announced as he approached me with glasses in hand, seeming much more composed. He handed me a small crystal glass containing something white and creamy. He smiled and took a sip, and I hesitantly followed suit. Ooh! Egg Nog!

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I'm on my second. It really helps." He set his glass down and with a very naughty smile pulled me back until I was lying back in his arms on the couch, one of his legs propped on either side of his body.

As the tree still blocked the _Horrible Sight_ from my new position, I didn't really mind. Plus, Harry wasn't soft, but he was nice and warm, rather like a personal heater at my back.

"Too bad we can't scandalize your parents!" he murmured into my ear, before he turned to try to look around the _tree that would never be moved again_.

"No! No, we don't need to see them. They're ummm…I'm sure they're leaving soon," I assured him quickly. They probably _would_ be moving on soon, to take their prey away to do perverted things in a private location.

"Why would you want to see them anyway? Do you _want_ to scandalize them?" That's right, Draco! Divert and Attack!

"Of course," he replied cheerfully, if a bit slurred now that his second eggnog was nearing its end.

"What? Why?"

"All part of my plan," Harry assured me conspiratorially.

"What plan?"

"Well, I figured purebloods take forever to get used to new ideas, so I thought molesting you in front of them would eventually give them a clue. Also, it'd keep you too busy to get engaged to others. Smart, eh?" Harry beamed at me proudly.

"That's a horrible plan! They'll kill you," I told him.

He snorted. "Naw…they'd try…again, but they'll fail. Besides, you're more important than a few paltry death threats."

"Really?" I asked, looking into my now empty cup as a warm feeling rushed through me at the words.

"Yep," Harry downed the rest of his cup and set it aside.

"You too," I whispered.

"I know."

He gave me a quick hug and I settled back, watching the white fairy lights twinkle and letting the sound of conversations swell and ebb in the room. It was nice and peaceful, being surrounded by Harry on Christmas Eve with the sounds of people making merry around us.

Harry's voice rumbled in my ear as my eyes began to droop, "Although I don't know if we should have had any of the egg nog, the twins were at it earlier…probably three times as potent as anything else here…"

And that was the last thing I remembered before I passed out.

* * *

"Draco…Draco, wake up." 

"Mrrmghm," I replied, trying to pull my nice warm blanket more firmly over me. The blanket was surprisingly resistant to being moved so I cracked open one eye. Harry's face came into view and I realized that _he_ was my blanket and I was still on the couch.

"Good morning," he said with a smile.

"Morning," I replied as it hit me that the party was over and there was light just beginning to stream in from the window across from us. We had _slept_ on the couch all night? I was never drinking egg nog when the Weasleys were nearby again!

"Draco," Harry said quietly, pulling me from happy thoughts of our house being Weasley free by afternoon. He pulled a small wrapped box from a pocket. "This is from me…I wanted to give it to you when we were alone."

I carefully slid the crisp red paper off, finding a jewelry box, which held a simple gold ring.

"It's a promise ring," Harry whispered.

"Promising what?" I asked with a saucy smile.

"That we'll be together forever."

"Even when I'm old and yet still disturbingly sexy?" I slipped on the ring.

"Pfft. You'll probably age like your father. I, on the other hand, will probably get hairy and spotty."

"I could handle that," I replied with a wink. I gave him a quick kiss. "Happy Christmas Harry."

"Happy Christmas Draco," he replied with a happy smile, but his green eyes were twinkling a just a bit _too_ much and I knew something was up. "Oh, and _Aperio!"_

"What?" I asked in confusion, before I realized that I was suddenly very, very cold and very, very naked. "Ack!" I squeaked, spotting my clothing which was now neatly folded on the floor, as opposed to being on my person.

Harry grinned, but looked slightly sheepish. "It did work! Umm…I should probably mention that it wasn't _just_ a promise ring."

"You did this on purpose? You…you're no Gryffindor at all!!" I jabbed a finger in his chest and yanked a couch pillow to cover my lap.

"But this will be brilliant Draco! Just think, your parents will have to accept our relationship now!" he cajoled, looking penitent and _ever so sorry_, but I noticed it didn't stop him from trying to ogle me through the pillow.

"Well…_maybe_…" I thought about it, not _quite_ following how a naked Draco equaled parental acceptance.

But the idea of naked +Harry _did_ have many perks.

I came to my decision.

"Well…okay…but I demand a ring that makes _you_ naked-on-command as well!"

_**The End**_

* * *

A/N 

I want to thank my readers and reviewers - you really encourage a person to go that extra mile (in my case the 'extra mile' is to actually _finish _the thing_ -_ this is the first time I've actually finished a story!)

I also want to again thank Cimmerian Sorceress for being such a superb beta for this fiction – She really has done a great job on this fic, making it much better that I could have ever done alone!


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